


Undercooked

by Shikyokage742



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: DC Comics References, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Fellswap Papyrus (Undertale) - Freeform, Fellswap Sans (Undertale) - Freeform, Friendship, Multi, Order!verse, Restaurants, Reverse Harem, Romance, Slow Burn, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Swapfell Sans (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Violence, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shikyokage742/pseuds/Shikyokage742
Summary: The Chef was used to weird things, but monsters were a whole new beast. Who knew creatures made of love and kindness could be so much trouble.Ebott was supposed to be a normal city. Boring. Not so much. Monster coming up from below a mountain more than a year ago is weird enough. A monster pledging his loyalty after his life was saved is weird enough. But borderline stalker skeletons swarming her life?The Chef didn't order this.
Relationships: Papyrus (Undertale)/Original Female Character(s), Sans (Undertale)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 80
Kudos: 125





	1. In the Beginning

“ _Boss.... You're a weird magnet.”_

“ _Yeah, everywhere I go, weird shit follows.”_

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.

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The heat in Gotham was getting to be too much. The Chef was.... _advised_ to pack up shop, and move. So she did. There was a fanfare at the last night in her diner, regulars comprised of criminals, thieves, prostitutes, drug dealers, and shady characters of all kinds brought gifts, some acquired legally, some not. Music filled the dirty streets of the rainy city. Tears were shed, and when the misty rain brightened to a golden fog, The Chef locked her empty diner, and left. Her employees, Gary, Kyle, Marcus and his family, had already made their plans to follow her known. It was hard for ex-cons to get a good steady job, and they were loyal to her. They had left ahead of her. By the time she got to her new city, the new diner would be ready for business. Lex and Oswald made sure she got a good deal despite not having seen the new location, and her new apartment was already set up, courtesy of her other _friends_.

The morning was the hardest for her though. Damien had shown up, scowling, eyes red and only just drying, hugging her. Alfred hugged her as well. She knew she'd see them again. Didn't hurt any less, though.

So she climbed into her new old pickup truck, tarp covering her possessions, and drove off. Heart heavy for the first time ever at leaving a place she had called home. Arms stinging from the tattoos she received from her friends. The phone on the dash ringing out with notifications of people saying goodbyes, the phone in her boot buzzing as well.

Ebott City had better be ready for her.

Gotham didn't breed weak people.

.

.

.

All things considered, Ebott wasn't half bad, just boring. The Chef was used to the craziness of Gotham. The constant sound of sirens, explosions, bright coloured spandex and Kevlar. Here, it was just cars honking at jaywalkers, parties in apartments spilling to the rooftops, only the occasional siren. Not bad, just boring. The Chef had taken to playing shows and movies that had explosions and police chases just so she could sleep. Even her own diner felt dimmer. It just wasn't the same without the hustle of her old patrons. The only normalcy she had now a days was her boys. Kyle and Gary seemed to take to the new environment well enough, Marcus on the other hand seemed twitchier in the calmer city. When The Chef had asked him about his mental state during a smoke break he had replied.

“Don't mind me Boss, just waiting for it.”

He never did elaborate what _it_ was, but now The Chef was just as on edge as well. For months, Hodge Podge gained a new following, new regulars coming daily or nightly. It seemed that word from the twitter account her diner had, to which she had no access to, it had been made by one of her Gotham patrons, had reached the less savory of Ebott. She didn't mind. They knew the rules. You make no trouble, you bring no trouble, you get no trouble. Business was booming just like it had in her old home. Life seemed to reach a level of normal The Chef never had before.

So of course, once she had found her stride, life gave her a new surprise.

Mack, a regular from day one, Deker's cousin or something, came bursting through the door to her diner, breathless and sweaty. He grabbed the remote from Kyle, who had been watching a basketball game, and changed the channel.

“ _-firmed reports of monster sightings! Local officials are asking people to steer clear of the mountain base, as they assess the situation. Our very own, Stacy Conrad is at the scene. Stacy, what can you tell us?”_

The TV held everyone in rapture, as the view panned over creatures of all shapes and sizes, the lights from emergency vehicles lighting them up in blues, and whites, and reds. The Chef was just as enthralled, flipping a burger patty on reflex as she watched the spectical. Marcus huffed a dry laugh.

“There it is.” He clapped The Chef on the back. “Boss, do me a favor and never go to the beach.”

“Why?”

“You might summon a kraken.”

Fair enough.

.

.

.

Ebott, the once boring city, became a hub of activity. New crews came in from around the world. Members of government came and met the Monsters. Actual Monsters, not meta humans or unfortunate results of acid baths or experimentation. As with all things, there were those who came in peace and support, and those who came in hatred and fear. The Chef kept to herself. Who cared, anyway? Her diner was getting more business. Soon this would all blow over. Rumor had it the Monsters would be slowly integrating with the rest of the world soon. If they could pay for food, they were customers, just like the rest.

.

.

.

It took almost a year, but the nation came to an agreement. Integration. Monsters were now free to roam the land, with some caveats. The big one was no use of their apparent magic for harmful purposes. And to help the integration process, a new organization was set up to help. Humans willing to help Monsters were to go through a rigorous screening process to become Sanctuaries. People ready and willing to assist with the culture shock and teach Monsters the basics. Laws, driving, basically how to function. Sancs, being the more common name used. Marcus's girlfriend wanted to do it, sweetheart she was, but Marcus countered with her having just given birth a few months ago. Gary had joked The Chef should be one, seeing as she seemed to collect the odd strays of the world with ease, to which she turned down with the throw of an apple at his head.

She didn't need anymore odd strays in her life.

.

.

.

Life was about to tell her otherwise.

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.

.

It had been one year and six months since The Ascension, as Monsters called it. Integration was slow. Most Monsters staying close together on the opposite side of the city. There was, of course, the odd ones out. The Royal Family, and their Human Ambassador, some human kid. Honestly, The Chef wasn't keeping track, only overhearing snippets of information that filtered into the kitchen of her diner. She wasn't opposed to Monsters, she just didn't care what they did. It didn't effect her.

Until it did.

Being a city of high elevation, the mornings were usually foggy, especially in the morning. The Chef And Marcus, her right hand man, were headed to her diner earlier than usual. A new recipe just waiting to be tested floating in her head, and Marcus needed to bake the morning parties. Her morning “coffee” kept her hands warm as a cold breeze swept the hazy morning streets. The Chef was rummaging in her messenger bag for her keys when she heard a very familiar sound. The sounds of impact, of grunts, scuffling of shoes on concrete. A fight.

Someone didn't know the rules of her diner.

Marcus sniffed in annoyance, leveling a deadpan stare to The Chef, shaking his head. Turning on her heel, The Chef made her way down the alley behind her diner, Marcus sighing, unlocking the diner with his own key. In the shadows on her own building, she could just make out several shapes. Three standing, and one curled lump on the ground.

“You should've stayed un-” Whatever the figure was going to say, was interrupted.

“Y'all need to leave.” The Chef said, sipping from her “coffee”, which was mostly scotch. “There's a no fighting rule on my property.”

“Don't worry, Miss. We'll be done here soon.”

“Nah. You're done now. Leave, or I'mma fuck ya up.” The Figures laughed.

“What're you going to do?” Another voice asked, it sounded familiar.

“Play ball.” The backdoor to her diner slammed open, and Marcus stepped out, tossing a baseball bat to The Chef, A gift from a certain jester. The Chef caught it with ease. She had been taught a few tricks from a few people back in the Gotham. Marcus proved a good distraction, him charging the closest idiot to him and knocking him down, his height and girth bowling the man over with ease, the man's head slamming into the dumpster. The Chef surged forward, swinging the bat low at one of the men, hitting his knees. He fell with a cry, which cut off to a wheezing gasp when The Chef kick him in the stomach. Marcus was grappling with the third man, bodily picking him up and suplexing him. Marcus rolled away, as The Chef swung the bat down on the mans arm, hearing the satisfying sound of bone snapping, and the man screaming.

It was quiet for a few moments, save for whimpering, wheezing, and blubbering cries. The backdoor swung open further when a breeze howled through the alley, illuminating the familiar face of Mack, tears leaking down his cheeks, snot bubbling from his nose.

“I'm telling Deker. If I see any of you here again, you'll never be able to run far enough to be safe.” Mack and his friends gathered what little wits they had left, and limped away, looking over their shoulders in fear.

“Boss.” The Chef turned to Marcus, who nodded to the curled figure on the ground. The light from her kitchen shining on... fur. The Chef padded close to the Monster on the ground.

“You need help?” The Chef called, keeping a distance from the Monster. When she spoke, golden glowing eyes blinked up at her, shining in the low light of the alley. A growl emanating from the figure. The Chef rolled her eyes, tossing the bat back to Marcus. “I'm not gonna fight you. Can you stand?”

“Yes.” Impossibly deep, rumbling voice vibrating through her chest, The Chef watched the figure begin to stand. The Monster pushed his impossible height off the ground, standing tall in a stretch before hunching down slightly. “Thank you.”

Would this Monster be considered a werewolf? Bipedal wolf monsters the size of a tree aside, The Chef snorted.

“Don't mention it. Really. Don't.” Pulling her flask out, Marcus stepped up beside her, eyeing the Monster.

“Boss, you gonna be good?”

“Yeah, go ahead and start baking.” Marcus wandered inside, leaving the door open. The Chef sipped the scotch in her flask, before offering the silver flask towards the Monster, impossibly massive clawed hands gripping the flask, making it look tiny. “Well... Come on, lets get you inside, and call... whoever.”

The figure followed her inside, stooping low as to not hit his head. Eyeing the stainless steel counters, Marcus rinsing his arms and hands in the sink.

“You gonna call Deker, Boss?”

“Yeah. Fuckers.” The Chef snorted, nudging Marcus with her hip so she could wash her hands too. The Massive beast standing awkwardly in the kitchen, sniffing loudly. “Phone's on the wall, feel free to use it when you're ready.”

“You saved me.” That deep voice rumbled again, The Chef swearing she could see some of the plates stacked up shaking from the sound.

“What'd I say about mentioning it?” The nearly glowing eyes narrowed at her.

“Do you hate Monsters?”

“No. Just don't want people getting the wrong idea. I ain't in the business of saving people. Just don't want trouble at my diner.”

“Yet you still came to my assistance.” Marcus chuckled.

“Don't let her fool you, she's a bitch, but she's a bitch with a heart.” The Chef kicked his shin.

“Shut up and bake, asshole.”

“Yes Chef.” Marcus chuckled, heading to dry storage for his own ingredients.

“I am Grey.” The Monster stepped closer to The Chef, who was drying her hands. “I am the creator of the Dog Squad of the Underground and I was once The Queen's personal guard, many, many years ago. I am no longer.”

“Cool. Why are you telling me this?”

“I have not had a purpose for a long time, and since The Ascension, I have yet to find my place, yet to have a duty worth while.” The Monster, Grey, knelt to one knee, head bowed. “You saved me this night, not knowing who or what I was. Whether it was by the hand of those humans, or my inevitable Falling Down. Such kindness should not go unrewarded.” The Chef suddenly felt very uneasy.

“Oh boy....”

“I pledge my loyalty to you, until the day I can repay you fully. A life for a life.”

“You really don't have to to that.” The Chef grumbled adamantly, shaking her head.

“It is my duty.” The Monster's head snapped to the side with a jarring quickness, to the swinging doors that lead to the lobby. Gary and Kyle stood in the doorway, eyeing the massive beast in apprehension. Then, Gary began to laugh.

“What'd I say Chef? Strays!” Gary had to lean on Kyle, who was laughing along. The Chef groaned, running a hand through her hair, sighing.

“Great....” The Monster stood, his height silencing the laughing goons in the doorway.

“What is your name, My Lady.” This got the goons laughing again, howling at the reddening of The Chef's cheeks. Mockingly calling her Lady Chef, the name Damien called her back in Gotham.

“Don't call me that!”

“What shall I call you then?”

“Alexandera. My name's Alexandera.” Marcus came back out of dry storage, rolling cart filled with flour and sugar. And a pack of cigarettes she kept for emergencies. “Marcus... Can you.... Deal with this.” She snatched the pack up, Marcus nodding.

“Way ahead of you, Boss. Grey, let me show you around.” Alexandera, The Chef, snuck back outside as Marcus introduced Grey to her other boys, steering the Monster;s glowing yellow gaze away from her.

The pack was half empty in twenty minutes.

.

.

.

It took two weeks for The Chef to get used to her new massive shadow. Grey had been attached to her hip, since that day in the alley behind her diner, looming behind her constantly. It caused quite the stir when she first headed home to her apartment. She had asked Grey if he needed to get back home, but he was one of the few Monsters that hadn't been paired with a Sanc, preferring to stay near the original encampment near the base of Mount Ebott, which was more of it's own suburb now. Her landlord had nearly had a heart attack at seeing the behemoth, but money talks, and he stayed quiet. Though for legal purposes, he did need to add Grey to the lease. Which meant The Chef needed to be registered as a Sanc herself. That was no problem. She had friends that could... _backlog_... her records. In the eyes of government paperwork, she had been a Sanc since day one, with glowing reviews.

Damien, of course, had arrived three days later, having been notified of the development by Marcus. The Traitor. Even worse, with Damien's proclivity of calling her Lady Chef, Grey had taken to _only_ referring to Alexandera as My Lady, despite her adamant refusal.

He must have gotten some joy out of her frustration.

But after two weeks, things went back to a regular routine, once the novelty of her having a Monster as an “employee” wore off with her regulars. Some had stopped coming by, but that was fine by her. There was a sign on the door of her diner now. _Monsters Welcome._ Grey had... smiled at that. Well, smiled as much as a fang filled muzzle can.

Work, lock up, head home with Grey, fight Grey on who was cooking dinner that night, watch some TV, head to sleep. Wake up in the night to tell Grey to go to his own room, she was safe. Wake up and head to work. Rinse and repeat. After three more weeks, it became routine. It became familiar.

Alexandera had opened up to Grey, after him repeatedly telling her that whatever was said among themselves would be kept secret. Safe. She told him of her life, the story behind her scars, the tattoos. Her _friends_ , why she kept a second phone in her boots, why she had moved to Ebott in the first place. The massive monster quickly became one of Her Boys. She even custom ordered him his own Chef's coat. His name proudly displayed on the coat.

_Grey. Guard Dog._

He wore it everyday to work, even though he wasn't technically employed, and wasn't required to wear it at the diner. Only when she had catering orders.

One evening, when the two were at home, chowing down on take out when neither of them would back down on who was cooking, Grey quietly asked her for something.

“What is it?” Noodles hung from The Chef's mouth, sauce dripping on her tank top.

“I would like a collar.”

“Kinky.” Grey huffed, rolling his glowing eyes.

“It shows the world I am bound to you. I had one when I was under The Queen's command. No longer. I would like to have one again.”

“I'm not getting you a leash.”

After two more weeks, the collar was denim blue, like her hair....

The leash was neon green.

.

.

.

Monsters were beginning to venture more into the city. More protesters appeared, chanting racists remarks in front of businesses that were monster friendly. Though none dared step close to her diner. Word had gotten out of the intimidating hound and the violent humans inside. The knowledge of “violent criminals” manning the diner, and the shady patrons repelling the idiots of the city. That was perfectly fine with The Chef. Alexandera's catering business was booming, if only so that richer Glitzies, and local officials could make face, showing off they were “monster friendly”, if only for the cameras, but hey, the pay was good. She knew when to jack the price up. The Monster Photo-op fee. Grey never complained, and It kept The Chef a good distance away from the cameras, just how she liked it. Today, however, was a slow day. Wednesday was always slow. So slow that The Chef had taken a half day for the diner, shooing the stragglers out, doing paperwork in the lobby instead of her small office in the back, bottle of whiskey sitting close by. Gary and Kyle were in the back, deep cleaning the kitchen, Marcus had gone home to give his girlfriend a break from being a mom. Grey was in the back, reorganizing the cooler. His fur keeping his warm. The radio was turned up, heavy metal blocking the sounds on the street. And the bell that rang when the door opened. Alexandera was caught in her own little world, bobbing her head to the fast tempo, fingers typing away at the next supply order when she caught blue and white from the corner of her eye. Looking over, The Chef raised a brow.

Skeletons.

Quite a few of them.

Using the controller, The Chef turned the volume down on the radio.

“Can I help you?” The skeleton before her, clad in a blue hoodie and a smile, nodded.

“was wondering if we could grab some grub, buddy.” He nodded his head, skull, towards the ragtag group of skeletons behind him, some staring at her, others looking around the diner in wonder. “this is a monster friendly place, right?”

“Sure, but we're closed.” The Chef looked to the door, seeing the sign hung on the door hadn't been flipped. “Or we should've been.” Alexandera sighed, closing the laptop, calling Gary out with a shout. He stumbled through the swing door from the kitchen, cleaning rag in hand.

“Yeah, Boss.” His eyes widened at the skeletons, sweat on his brow.

“Wash your hands, we got customers.” The Chef pushed herself up, grabbing the laptop and whiskey, flipping the sign to closed. “Sit where ever you like.”

.

.

.

Sans was _exhausted_. It was like herding cats, trying to keep everyone calm and together. You would think that since they were all technically him and his brother, there'd be some semblance of order, but no. You could say he was _bone tired_. Hours of finding monster friendly stores to shop for clothes that _suited_ everyone's taste, and avoiding the humans that weren't too happy with monsters, had culminated in a very hungry crowd. What he wouldn't give a burg from Grillby.

“I DEMAND WE STOP FOR FOOD!” _sure thing, bud. But do you know a place?_ Looking around, Sans felt some relief. _Hodge Podge._ Word around the street it was a safe place to eat, and monster friendly to boot. It only took minimal arguing to get everyone to agree to head inside. Opening the door, music blared from inside, the only person inside being a human woman. Perfect, even less chance of trouble. More so when she told them to take a seat. The human man, obviously a little nervous, took all their orders, even for food that wasn't technically on the menu. He watched as another human man saddled next to the human woman, who could be seen from the window to the kitchen, cooking right along beside her. Ketchup was slid in front of him, mustard and honey slid to the other skeletons across the booth from him.

“so how long you think it's gonna take to get the machine fixed?” Papyr- no, _Stretch_ asked, squeezing the bear, a long string of honey drizzling into his mouth.

“can't say. hopefully with all of us working on it, it shouldn't take... well, it'll get fixed, eventually.”

“not like 'm in a rush ta get back.” Red, the _other_ Sans, grumbled, downing the mustard in his hand.

“you should be, who knows what could happen, all of us in one place. time space continuum might collapse.”

“not my fuckin' fault, now is it?” Gold tooth glinting, Red gave a wicked smile. This wasn't going to be easy. Quite a few of them hadn't reached the surface in their timelines, and weren't eager to go back Underground. Not that Sans blamed them. Sans slumped back, trying not to pass out. He was just so... tired. He felt himself nodding off, when a plate was slid in front of him. The man, Gary, serving up the first of the food. It smelled... heavenly. One of the others, Black, shouted at the man for not being served first.

“Hey!” The woman drew Blacks attention from the kitchen window. “Don't talk to my employee that way. I made the food in the order it was written, yours will be up in a moment.” She leveled an icy glare at the short Skeleton, not breaking eye contact, though Sans noticed her hand never stopped moving. Black wasn't cowed.

“I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO IN SUCH A WAY BY SOME PATHETIC HUMAN SERVING WENCH! I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO THE MANAGER!” Sans knew this was going to be trouble. Especially when the woman gave a twisted, toothy grin.

“Sure thing, Fucko.” The woman stepped away, disappearing a moment before coming out the swinging door, walking up to where Black and his brother, _Mutt_ , were sitting. “Sup.”

“YOU'RE THE MANAGER?! THIS IS A MONSTER FRIENDLY ESTABLISHMENT, WHO IS THE MONSTER IN CHARGE?”

“ _I'm_ the owner. You got a problem with how I run things? I'll make your food last if you're gonna act like an entitled asshole.” The Woman, The Owner, stood before them hands on her hips. Yep, trouble.

“don't talk to m'lord that way.” Mutt glared, smoke rising from the dog treat clenched in his teeth. The woman shifted her gaze.

“No smoking in the shop. Take it outside.” The woman looked back to Black. “You can wait just like the rest for your food.”

“WHO ARE YOU TO SPEAK TO ME IN SUCH A WAY. I AM THE MALEVOLENT SA- BLACK! YOU SHOULD BE BOWING IN MY PRESENCE YOU WRETCHED, WEAK, PATHETIC-” A deep, guttural growl reverberated in Sans's rib cage, an oppressive weight of magic in the atmosphere.

“ _I suggest you think carefully on your next words.”_ Gasps rose from the skeleton crew, _heh_ , as a Wolf Monster walked through the door, hunched over and arms bowed in an aggressive stance. Papyrus, Sans's brother, gasp loudly, whispering in the way only he could, loudly.

“FRIEND BLUE! THAT'S... THAT'S!!!” Blue, the second smallest of the Sanses had stars in his eyes, equally excited.

“GREY! THE HOUND!” Said monster stalked towards where Black and Mutt were seated, fur along his neck and tail on end, ears flattened. Mutt stiffened, recognition sparking in his eyes, as Black seemed to slump the tiniest bit into his seat. It was quiet, the standoff dragging on silently, before Black broke eye contact. The oppressive weight lifting as the wolfs stance slackened, looking to the woman, who was still staring down the skeleton.

“Are you well, My Lady.” That seemed to break the woman's concentration, who snorted, smacking the wolf's arm in a familiar way.

“Don't fucking call me that, Grey.” This got Black to look up in surprise. She met the skeletons eyes again. “Now, you're order will be out shortly, don't worry. Don't be a dick. One of the rules here.” Black eyed her, before nodding slowly. “And you, smoke outside.” Mutt still kept staring at the wolf. The woman began to make her way back towards the kitchen, but stopped when she seemed to notice the wolf wasn't following. The Wolf staring Mutt down.

“Come on, Grey, I'll need your help” That's when San's understood why Mutt was staring. The woman grabbed a bright green leash, tugging it once to get the Monsters attention.

“At once, My Lady.” One last growl directed towards Mutt, and the Skeleton ported outside, staring down the woman from the window, the wolf stooping low to enter the kitchen behind her. The Woman began cooking again, ignoring the stares she was getting from the group.

“holy shit.” Red looked at the window in wonder. “she collared the hound.”

“the hound?”

“come on, 'nilla, you can't be that stupid. the hound, one 'f the strongest monsters to ever walk the royal guard, least, in my universe.”

“same here.” Stretch was watching the window, watching the wolf. “my bro used to idolize him, right after alphys. “

“and she fuckin' collared him! wonder how she managed tha'.”

Sans could hear Papyrus gushing along with Blue, recounting tales of their respective recollections eagerly. No, Sans had never heard of him, Undyne being the idol in Paps life. Curious, he did a CHECK.

_Grey_

_LV 10_

_EXP 1_

_HP 100_

_ATK 30_

_DEF 60_

_Happy to be of service again._

Nothing odd there.

Until he CHECKed the woman.

_Alexandera_

_LV 25_

_EXP 1_

_HP 5_

_ATK 20_

_DEF 20_

_Needs a stiff drink._

Red whistled low, and Stretch squeezed his honey bottle a little tighter.

“damn, 25. ya sure it's safe to eat here, 'nilla”

Sans was starting to have his doubts.


	2. My own

Sans didn't want to come back to this place.

At all.

For two months him and Stretch had tried to dissuade their brothers into not venturing too far into the city. Sure, humans so far had been.... agreeable to Monsters, but that didn't mean things couldn't change. That humans weren't capable of violence. He knew that better than _any_ Monster. Well.... He supposed that wasn't entirely true anymore. Yet, despite their efforts, Papyrus and Blue continued their “jogs” into the city. Continued going the _that_ humans diner. Sans wasn't ashamed to say he did some spying, and it shook him, what he saw. The blue haired human, with the high LV, had three other humans with her, with high LV _and_ XP. Very high XP. And while they seemed harmless on the outside, they served anyone who entered the diner whether human or Monster, not with the friendliness Monsters exuded, not the false friendliness humans did, with laid back curtness. Sans wished they could see what he did, that they had the same ability he had, as Judge, to see LV and XP without having to pull an encounter, so they knew the danger possible. But they didn't. _Papyrus_ didn't, and Sans couldn't tell him. Couldn't give him a good reason as to why he didn't want his brother there.

Just another secret to keep.

And because of that, here he was.

Undyne and Alphys were back from their honeymoon abroad. The first Monsters to leave the country, other than The Royal Family, and Papyrus wanted to celebrate. Wanted to take his friends to his new favorite spot. So here they were, the happy couple, the royal family, and the skeleton brothers, waltzing into the diner. The diner with potentially dangerous humans.

Stars, he almost wished he was still Underground.

“Gyah! Come on, Punk! What's so special about this place?” Undyne growled out, looking around. “I mean, I dig the decorations, but aren't you always going on about greasy food?”

“WHILE THEY MAY LACK IN SPAGHETTI, THE FOOD IS GOOD! IT'S NOT ALWAYS GREASY!” Papyrus ushered the group to a booth, gesturing to a poster. “THEY ALSO HAVE ANIME MEMORABELIA!”

“I-I heard of t-t-this show!” Alphys mumbled. “T-Though, it's n-n-not as good as Mew Mew Kissie Cutie.” The group slid in, The Royals taking the majority of the space, Papyrus's knees almost to his chest, Alphys sitting in Undyne's lap.

“THAT IS NOT THE BEST PART!” Papyrus grinned triumphantly. “THEY HAVE A VERY SPECIAL EMPLOYEE! A MONSTER!”

“How wonderful! I'm glad to hear humans are taking so well to our kind.” Toriel remarked, serene smile on her face. The Kid sitting next to her nodded, taking in the diner. It was nearly empty this time of day. Sans tried not to fidget in his seat as one of the humans came to their table, his XP not as high as the others, but high enough.

“Hey, 'sup Papyrus? Welcome to Hodge-Podge. Here's our menu for today. Drinks?” The human man had greeted Sans brother with a familiarity that almost rattled his bones. Sans tuned out, as he caught sight of the human woman through the window to the kitchen. A scowl on her face as she focused on whatever task was before her. Was she scowling because they were there? Because they were Monsters? He couldn't tell. Sans hated it. He could read people easily without having to CHECK them, but she didn't give off much other than intense focus. He gave his order to the human man, and went back to brooding, chiming in with puns during the conversation around him at the right times, a well rehearsed show he had kept up for too long. Too long....

Lunch was an affair. Undyne loudly retelling the highlights of the honeymoon, Paps in awe at his idols adventures in Japan. Everyone munching on admittedly good food. Sans tried his best to immerse himself in the good cheer, but knew he wouldn't relax until the were back in Monster Territory. After an hour, things were winding down, plates empty, tales slowing as phones were pulled out to show photos. That's when the check came, and Toriel's face lit up in ecstatic shock.

“Grey?”

There was The Hound, large and imposing, white chef's coat on his large frame, and collar polished. His own expression not mirroring The Queen's joy.

“You're check. Thank you for coming. Have a good day.” It was clipped and monotone, almost rehearsed, as the wolf stalked off, stooping low under the door frame into the kitchen. Sans saw a brief glimmer of sorrow touch The Queen's eyes, before she pulled her own mask on.

“Tori?”

“It's nothing, I'm sure he is busy at his new job.” The Queen gave her signature smile, placing a paw on Asgore's own. “Come, let us head home, I have a pie awaiting you there.”

As they trailed off, Paps gave an enthusiastic goodbye, waving wildly. The human men who worked the diner returned it, but Sans saw only the blue haired woman. A lazy wave, but her eyes were on Toriel. Grey by her side, whispering something in her ear.

If looks could kill.....

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.

.

“Spill it, Grey.” It was the midday break, Gary and Kyle were inside prepping, Marcus leading the charge. The Chef trusted Marcus enough to allow him control. Gene wouldn't believe it, her handing the reigns to someone else. She sat on a milk crate, halfway through a cigarette, coffee in her other hand, as Grey stood before her.

“That was... is... The Queen of Monsters.”

“Your previous boss?” Grey nodded.

“You looked ready to bolt, seeing her. What's the story?”

“I was under her employee, no longer. I had not expected to see her.”

“That's not all of it.” Grey kept eye contact, but stayed silent, as smoke wafted from The Chef's mouth. “Y'all were fucking or something?”

“No.”

“You gonna tell me?”

“Is that an order?”

“It is if this is gonna be a problem.” The Wolf started, shoulders tightening. All the time he had pledge to The Chef, she had _never_ used her power over him. Never directed him outside of the kitchen. She was doing it now though, because... she was worried for him? The Wolf pondered, debating on whether he should say or not, before he heaved a sigh.

“I... I can not risk the safety of Monster kind...”

“Grey, do you trust me?”

“Yes.” It was quiet again as they stared at each other.

“Grey, my friends are dangerous, wanted criminals. I understand.” And she did, more than anyone, she truly understood the fear of spilling the truth. Grey watched her a few more moments, steeling his nerve.

“Toriel adopted a human child that fell, hundreds of years ago. They died. Then her birth son died as well. Toriel sorrowed, while The King hunted. Anymore humans that fell Underground... were killed, their SOULs kept, collected, until we had enough to break the barrier. The Queen ran away.” The Wolf watched The Chef very closely. This was a gamble. Knowledge of the SOULs were a secret from humanity. The King decreeing that it was to be kept secret if they were to survive on the Surface. She was probably the only human, other than the Ambassador, to now know the awful truth. It was silent, the only sounds were distant cars, and the clink of The Chef's mug being set down.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Grey, I've seen worse, back home. You'd be surprised at some of the shit the people I know have done.”

“We killed humans.”

“Humans kill humans. I'm sure soon we'll get reports of humans killing Monsters. You wanted out. I don't fault you that.” The Wolf huffed, disbelief at her easy acceptance. “Doesn't explain why you looked ready to bolt.”

“The Queen's duty was to the Monsters of the Underground. I understand her grief, her sorrow, but she had a responsibility. She left because of her sadness, and her disapproval of Asgore's methods. She could have stayed. She could have changed things, if she truly wanted to protect the humans that fell, she could have done more as The Queen. Not as a hermit of the Ruins.” Grey paced, anger clouding his voice, snarling. “She wasn't the only one in pain. Wasn't the only one to lose children to the War. But when things got rough, she _fled._ And now that things are easy, above ground, she waltzes back in as if the past hundreds of years never happened. She _disgusts me!_ ”

“Oh....” Grey turned his golden gaze back to his Mistress, her brow furrowed as she stared into the concrete. “Yeah, okay. I get it. Fuck that bitch.” Grey snorted.

“Fuck that woman, indeed.”

“If she comes around again, what do you want to do?”

“Id prefer if I could avoid her at all cost.”

“Alright. If she shows up again, I'll kick her ass to the curb.” Grey's shoulders hunched, a weight he hadn't known he was carrying lifting.

“You have my thanks.”

“Don't thank me.” The cigarette butt was flicked into the diners dumpster. “I look after my own.”

Grey didn't know how true that was, yet.

.

.

.

“GOOD MORNING, MISS CHEF!” The Chef snorted. Just like clockwork, the two skeletons were back, her Boys wandering out to greet her new regulars. She could hear the exuberance even in the back of the kitchen, but it didn't bother her much. They may be loud, but unwavering friendliness can wear down even the toughest exteriors. They were a little late today though, The Chef noted, as she packed the last of the catering order. Marcus and her would be delivering it to a local business, decked in his own chef''s coat, checking the list to ensure everything was accounted for.

“Got a call from back home.” Marcus murmured under his breath. The tone implied it wasn't social.

“My phone's been silent.”

“Raid. Only one out is Ivy.” The Chef grunted. That wasn't good. “Keep an eye on the Gotham Times.”

“Right. We'll send a care package.” The cart was piled high with food. “Damage?”

“J, mostly. Broken ribs, concussion ,maybe, but who knows with him. The others only have a few bruises and a busted lip.”

“Birdbrain?”

“Legitimate, but we know he'll supply the break.”

“Several care packages, then.” Gary wandered in, twitchy, nervous.

“Boss, we might have an issue.” The Chef's head whipped to her Boy.

“How bad?”

“A.M.L.” Anti-Monster League, fucking great. “We got more than Papyrus and Blue inside. His cousins or something. They got the look. Grey's fur is on end.” Even better.

“Thanks. Anyone try to come in?”

“No, but The Queen is here.” Fuck. Marcus sighed.

“Want me to-”

“No, go make the delivery, I got this.” The Chef pulled her flask out, taking a sip. “Gary, call the cops.” Gary nodded, despite his dislike of the law. The Chef stalked away, grabbing the baseball bat that leaned on the wall next to her tiny office. She could hear the chants as she stepped into the lobby, a large crowd could be seen in front of her business through the windows. Grey's low growl rumbling her chest. Blue stood before the Queen in a protective stance, though it look comical due to the height difference. Papyrus and another skeleton in an orange hoodie seemed to be holding a shorter skeleton in a red and black hoodie, who was cursing up a storm. She recognized the last skeleton, the... dog treat? Smoking?

“Grey.” Multiple heads turned at her monotone voice. “How many?”

“Two dozen or so.” The Chef nodded, handing off her bat and flask, taking her Chef coat off, leaving her in her black tank top.

“Take them to the back.”

“like hell i'm hiding!” The skeleton in red grumbled. The Chef took the bat back as Grey ushered the others to the back. Only The Queen, Papyrus, Blue, and the tall skeleton in orange followed, though the latter gave her meaningful look, one she ignored.

“Not hiding. Staying out of the way.”

“what's a human like you gonna do?” The Skeleton in red asked, shoulders bowed, stance akimbo.

“You can't use magic. You'll fuck it up for the rest of Monsters if you confront these assholes, even if you don't use magic. They'll say anything to justify themselves.” The Chef calmly strode forward, stopping in front of the Monster. “Push comes to shove, you can be last line of defense. And you.” The Chef looked to the the other Skeleton lounging in one of her booths, looking unbothered by the commotion outside, he leveled a lazy glare her way.

“No smoking inside.” The Chef walked away, swinging the bat onto her shoulder.

.

.

.

It was loud outside. Chanting overwhelming the usual sounds of traffic and pedestrians, picket signs blocking the view. Grey was right, about two dozen humans stood outside her diner, shouting. More people stood further away, watching in interest, just by standers. The yells only got louder when they noticed her standing there.

“Traitor!”

“Monster lover!”

“Freaks!”

“Demons!”

“Disgusting!”

Insults were thrown her way, but The Chef stood still, standing before her front door. She held her free hand up in a gesture of silence, waiting for the crowd quiet. When it didn't stop, The Chef rolled her eyes in annoyance. Inhaling deeply, lungs filled to the brim with air, The Chef bellowed.

“SHUT THE _FUCK_ _ **UP!**_ ” Her yearly Halloween gig paid off, her voice over whelming the chants as she projected not only her voice, but her anger as well. Several of the “protesters” jumping at the sound. “This is private property, and you are not welcome here!”

“This is public space!” One shouted back.

“No the fuck it ain't. I own this land, this is my business, and you are not welcome.”

“You let those abominations in? What is wrong with you?!”

“Well I've been told I have a drinking problem.” The Chef scanned the crowd, noting faces and outstanding features. “You need to leave.”

“We're not leaving!”

“Alright, well, when the cops show up, you can talk to them.”

“We have a right to gather, the cops can't do anything!”

“Technically, you're trespassing and causing civil unrest.” Several people began to yell dissent, but the Chef ignored it, grip tightening on the bat as a few people began to crowd her. “You need to step back.”

“You won't do anything.” One man sneered.

“I can and will if you don't step back, you tiny dicked racist.” The man's face turned scarlet, sputtering at her insult.

“You bitch! Monster loving bitch!”

“Yep. But better a Monster loving bitch, than an inbred, micro dick having racist.” The Chef gave a toothy grin, glaring at the man. “What's wrong? Afraid your girls gonna leave you for a Monster? I've seen some shit on the internet, and girls really do like that monster sized dick.” Despite having gathered to protest Monsters, a few in the group turned away, shoulders bouncing in silent laughter. The man sputtered, face twisting into an ugly sneer, before he hacked, spitting on The Chef. Disgusted, The Chef refrained from wiping it from her face.

“Yeah, I bet that's the only way you can get your girl wet.” The man lunged at her, The Chef holding the bat in front of her to block the man's assault. He devolved into incoherent yelling, trying to get to The Chef, as his group egged him on.

Siren's bellowed from behind the group. Officer's stepping out of patrol cars. The man stopped his assault, grinning triumphantly.

“What's going on here?” A cop asked, to which the man began to spin a sob story to the cop, a tale of a peaceful protest and the violent woman. Oh if only her knew. When the cop looked to her for her side of the story, she shrugged.

“I asked them to leave. They didn't. Words were exchanged, and he tried to attack me. I have a recording.” The man's once red face, turned white.

“Oh?”

“This is my property, and they were trespassing. He also spat on me, which is technically criminal assault, since 2007.”

“May we see the recording?”

Bless Lex for installing the cameras.

After the cops cuffed the man, took witness statements and copies of the recordings when she agreed to press charges, the cops left. Gary closed the blinds, sweating bullets, his fear of the law never really leaving him, even if he wasn't a wanted criminal anymore. The Chef sipped from he flask, as   
Papyrus and Blue gushed at her “bravery”. The Chef uncomfortable with the attention.

“damn, kitten. thought you were a goner there fer a bit.” Red, how original, gave a toothy grin, gold tooth gleaming. “kinda wish you'da used that bat, though.”

“Don't mention it.” The Chef sighed, accepting her flask from Grey, who hovered close to her. “Really. Don't.”

“You have my thanks, my child.” The Queen's lilting voice made The Chef flinch. “If there is anyway I can repay you for protecting us, I would be glad to.” The Chef glanced up at Grey.

“Yeah. There is something.” The Chef glared at the Queen. “Leave. You are not welcome here.”

“what the fuck? you- you a racist, too?” Red shouted.

“MISS CHEF?” Blue looked heartbroken, Papyrus matching his expression. The skeleton in orange glaring at her.

“You're fine. It's her that's not welcome here. My employee isn't comfortable with you here.” The Queen looked terribly confused.

“I... I'm sorry?”

“Grey. He isn't comfortable with you here.” The Chef raised her head more, straightening her back.

“What ever do you mean?” The Queen looked to Grey, eyes pleading.

“I respect you as The Queen.” Was all Grey said, voice low. The unspoken statement lingering in the air. _I respect you as Queen, and only as the Queen._

“I see.” The Queen looked to The Chef, her eyes boring into The Chef's cold gaze. “I will leave. I'm sorry to impose.”

“Not me you need to apologize to. Just not here.” The Queen nodded. “You need an escort?” The Queen mulled her statement over.

“i'll take her home.” the tall skeleton in orange said. Blue and Papyrus volunteered to help as well.

“Take the back door. Just in case there's any stragglers.” The tall skeleton stared her down before nodding. They left with little fanfare, Gary escorting them out back. Red and the other Skeleton stayed in the lobby, The Chef paying little attention she she sunk into one of her lobby chairs, running a hand through her hair.

“the fuck was all tha' 'bout?” The Chef glanced at Red, as Grey stalked into the kitchen once the others left.

“Grey and The Queen have a history. He doesn't want to be around her.”

“so ya just kick 'er out?”

“Yep. Nothing personal other than my personnel.”

“so ya ain't a racist?” The Chef raised a brow.

“Nope.”

“good. hate to take a racist on a date.”

“What?”

“i know a _hot_ spot. just need ya numba so ya know when ta meet me.” The Chef stared at the skeleton for a moment, before huffing a laugh.

“Sure, why the hell not.”

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_Hope y'all liked it. Don't forget to stalk me on tumblr._


	3. Night Out

This was The Chef's first real night out since moving to Ebott, and it was a little annoying. She was just used to being home, drinking her night away until the next day. Her phone buzzed, a text from her “date” letting her know he was outside the apartment building. Stepping out the bathroom, golden eyes stared her down.

“Are you sure you do not want me to accompany you?” Grey hovered near the front door, tail twitching to and fro in a stiff way. He seemed anxious.

“I'm fine, why so jumpy?” The Chef grabbed her keys from the stained coffee table, checking her to make sure her other phone was snug in her boot.

“I am not comfortable with you being alone with a stranger.” Grey's tail dropped. “Especially after the other day.”

“Worried I'll run into some more A.M.L.'s?” The Wolf nodded, a low whine eminating from his throat. Alexandera sighed. “Alright, look here.” The Chef pulled a small vile from her pocket, holding it between her fingers.

“What is that?”

“A gift from a friend. You know, from Gotham.” The Chef opened her laptop, pulling up a browser and pulling up a quick search. Grey's pseudo-hand-paws were too big for the keys of the laptop.

“You've mentioned them in passing, that they are criminals. But not much more than that.” Grey huffed as she gestured for him to sit on the couch.

“Well, here's the whole rundown. This video will let you know everything. Just... don't judge me too harshly. They're insane, dangerous, and honestly... Well... Not good people, but good to me.” The Chef did the one thing she knew best, aside from cooking.

She fled out the door, and to the streets below.

.

.

.

Red whistled when she emerged from the buildings front door.

“damn, babe, thought i was gonna hafta break ya out.” Alexandera rolled her eyes, ignoring the fact that he whistled without lips.

“Had to get passed the warden.” The Skeleton chuckled, looking her up and down, hands stuffed in his hoodies pockets.

“neva seen a prettier prisoner. ready?”

“Sure. Your wheels or mine?”

“yours, ain' got any wheels yet.” The Chef raised her brow.

“How'd you get here then? Bus don't run this late.” Red followed her as she walked to the carport.

“don' worry, i know a shortcut.” He winked at her when she side eyed him. “hope yer hungry.” From there, Red directed her out of the city proper, driving towards the well known Monster suburb. While some humans still wandered the streets, it was Monsters who clogged the streets. There weren't many cars, so eventually after waving the sixth pedestrian to walk across the road, The Chef gave up, and parked her truck to the side.

“Hope it's not far, I don't wanna deal with that anymore.” The Chef ran a hand through her hair, sighing as she locked the truck.

“nah, it's pretty close.” Red didn't seem bothered, shrugging his shoulders as we began to walk further into town. “so, gotta question fer ya.”

“Shoot.” Alexandera pulled her flask from her hip, taking a sip before offering it to the Skeleton. The ridge that would be his eyebrow raised, before her poured some of the liquor into his mouth, the golden tooth gleaming in the streetlights.

“how'dya get the hound?” He didn't pass the flask back. The Chef rolled her eyes, trying to snatch the flask back, but he was quick, tossing it into his other hand, smirking at her.

“So this more an interrogation, not a so called date?”

“'m hurt. guy can't ask questions, get ta know ya?”

“Funny that being your first question, that's all.” The Chef sneered at a passing human,who was giving her a curious look. “Found Grey getting the shit kicked outta him. Kicked the shit outta the bitches who did it. Grey wants to 'repay' me. Pledge his loyalty and shit.”

“so, your his sanc.” Red poured more liquor into his mouth, ignoring the pointed look she gave her flask.”did it outta the kindness of yer heart?”

“Look, let's get one thing straight. If it had been a different alley, I wouldn't have helped. My diner has some well known rules.” Red turned down the road, openly looking for her to continue. “You don't cause problems. You don't bring problems. You won't have any problems. A lot of my regulars are... not your usual upstanding citizens. Don't need the law knocking on my door, because I was an alibi.”

“so the hound was jus' at the right place, at the right time, huh?”

“Pretty much. I'm not in the business of being a hero. I'm just a chef.”

“i can respect tha'.” Red stopped before a brightly lit business. “we're here.” The sign read Grillby's. Through the windows The Chef could see it was filled with Monsters, not a human in sight. Stepping in, the cool night air turned warm, homey even. People briefly looked up, casting their curious gaze to the human before turning back to their own drinks, their own conversations. Red directed her to the bar, to which she took a seat.

“Took a chef to a restaurant, got a sense of humor.” The Chef looked to the multitude of swirling, glowing, even sparkling bottles lined on the back wall. She didn't recognize any of the brands.

“liked ta think I gotta funny bone.” Red huffed, smirk seemingly permanent on his face. “wha' ya neva order out?”

“Not my fault my take out craving can't be catered to.” Alexandera held her hand out, and Red slid the lighter flask back. “No one in this town know how to make decent fucking bao.”

“bao?”

“Chinese dumplings.” The Chef didn't elaborate as a walking inferno came from the kitchen's swinging door. A well dressed inferno with square framed glasses, and a neat vest and bow tie. The fire stopped before Red and Alexandera, sliding a bottle of mustard to Red, before looking to The Chef.

“'e's askin' what ya want.” Red fiddled with the twist top to the mustard, gauging her response.

“Dealer's choice. I'm not picky.”

“food, too?” Red asked, as The Chef slipped her flask into her back pocket.

“Sure, I'd like to know what my competition has against me.” The fire before her sizzled. Literally, little sparks popping from the fire's head, before he turned to the walls of liquids.

“damn, makin' bartinder hot under the collar.” Red chuckled as he swung his body to face The Chef more. “so, tell me more 'bout yaself.”

“Shouldn't you be doing that, yourself?” The Chef countered, resting her arm on the bar, hand holding her face up. “Conversations been sorta one sided.”

“not much ta know, really. worked odd jobs in the undergroun', been lazing 'bout since getting topside. gold exchange got me a pretty penny, so 'm jus' enjoying easy street.”

“Sounds boring as fuck.” The Chef nodded in thanks as a green glowing glass was set before her, the fire watching her take her first sip. Tart, fizzy, and a kick of a heavy handed pour. “Damn, shit's good.” The sizzling popped again, before the fire drifted towards his kitchen. Red chuckled, again.

“nevah seen him so excited.”

“Not a lot of humans come by, huh?”

“got it in one. yer prolly the firs' human to come by. gonna make the bar too high fer the others.”

“Anyone tell you your a flirt.” Alexandera asked, sipping more from her drink, trying to figure out what alcohol was in it.

“ya say it like ya don' like it.” Red leaned back a little, resting his arm on the backrest of the stool, a cocky look in his eyes. “can't a guy flirt with his pretty lady?”

“ _Your_ pretty lady? Gonna take more than a few drinks and a night out to call me yours.”

“don' worry, 'm up ta tha' challenge.”

“Flirt.”

“so why didn' ya beat the fuck outta them racists” The Chef sighed.

“Papyrus and Blue.” Red's grin dropped a fraction at the mention of the other skeletons.

“wha' 'bout 'em?”

“They got soft hearts. I'd hate for them to have to watch me fuck a bitch up. They're... too nice, you know?” Red nodded. “Sure, I know they want to be royal guards, or used to be, or whatever they want to do now, I don't know. Thing is, they're softies. They don't need to see how bad things can get.”

“so ya tried to protec' their innocence?”

“Guess so. I don't know. Just wouldn't want them to look at me different.” The Chef stared into her drink.

“ii can respect tha'.” Red nodded, changing the subject. Despite his flirtations, Alexandera enjoyed the conversation. Red and her swapped stories from their pasts, The Chef carefully filtering her more recent tales. Red firing dirty jokes and puns her way, her giving a scoffing laugh, occasionally he would score a bark of true laughter from her, just egging him to joke more. Grillby, the fire monster, had brought out food for the two, burger and fries for Red, who drowned it in mustard, and what The Chef assumed was a sampler platter. She really tried not to hum after biting into the hot dog, though the meat didn't taste like the usual grocery fair, but she failed, eyes closing in pleasure.

“Grillby, hate to say it, but fuck. I'm jealous. My diner ain't got shit on your food.” The Chef bit into the food again, ignoring Red who openly stared at her. Grillby smoked a bit, before heading off to other customers. “Something wrong?” The Chef asked Red, as he continued to stare.

“if ya wan' somethin' long and meaty fer ya mouth, i'd be more than _happy_ to supply.” Red's voice had dropped an octave, grin far to smug for his own good.

“Thought skeletons didn't have the equipment.” The Chef shot back, shoving the rest of the food into her mouth, barley swallowing as she sipped from her second drink of the night.

“kitten, give me a night, i'll show ya what my equipment can do.” Red spread his legs wider, hand rubbing suggestively on his thigh, as if to show how big said “equipment” was.

“jeez, red, laying it on thick, aren't you.” Someone voiced behind The Chef. Red's smug grin dropped into a sneer.

“the fuck ya doin' 'ere, ashtray. 'm on a date.” Alexandera turned to see the tall skeleton in an orange hoodie from the other day hovering behind her, hands in hoodie and slouched as he eyed Red.

“sorry, but your brother has been tearing the place apart looking for you. you have your phone turned off.” The skeleton didn't sound very sorry, as he shrugged, the stick in his mouth bobbing. “i didn't really care too much, but the mutt seemed to know where'd you be, so...” The skeleton gestured over his shoulder, to the other skeleton standing just outside the window, dog treat smoking as he stared in.

“Fucker.” The Chef scoffed, downing her drink in a more generous swallow. Red and the orange clad skeleton looked to her at her word. “Fucker smokes outside here, but wants to smoke inside _my_ diner.” Red gave a hearty laugh at her grousing, while the other skeleton eyed her.

“ya, he's not great about _obedience_.” Red sighed, pulling his wallet out.

“Try a spray bottle.” Red barked a short laugh, and The Chef could even hear the skeleton behind her chuckle a bit.

“'m gonna have ta cut our date short, kitten, sorry.”

“Eh, not like you were gonna get to use your equipment tonight anyways.” The Chef smirked at the shocked look on Red's face. “First date fucks aren't my style.”

“'ow 'bout a second date, then?”

“You wish you were that lucky, Red. Second date, sure, but I don't plan on fucking you.”

“can't blame a guy fer tryin'.” Red placed a few bills down, sliding out of the stool. “'s not often a babe graces me fer a night, without wanting some action, like i said, i like a challenge.”

“i think i might puke.” The skeleton behind her groused. “come on, i don't need edge destroying anything else.”

“calm yer coccyx, 'm comin'.” Red gave Alexandera another hungry look. “'ll talk atchya later, kitten.”

“I'm not your Kitten, Red. But yeah, text me later.” He grinned, walking passed her and towards the door. Just as The Chef turned back to face the bar properly, she heard his voice ring out.

“i'll bring yer flask back later.” The Chef swung her head around, gaping at the silver flask that was shook teasingly in his hand.

“Fuck you, Red!” She flicked him off, but couldn't help the half-cocked grin on her face. It had been a rather nice date. Just to be safe, she checked to make sure her wallet and keys were still in place, and thankfully they were. The Chef nibbled on one of the onion rings from her plate, scrolling through her phone, when the _other_ phone buzzed in her boot. Briefly debating, The Chef figured it was safe enough to pull it out. She didn't see any cameras, and this wasn't Gotham. Throwing a few bills of her own down on the bar, Alexandera left Grillby's. Pulling the phone from her boot, she checked the message she got.

_Heya Sunshine! Busted out, and really miss ya food! Can I get ya recipe for pulled pork?_

The Chef laughed to herself, before responding she would later, sliding the phone back into her boot. She really did miss them, to her surprise. If only...

“kinda odd, havin' two phones.” The Chef turned to the voice beside her. It was the skeleton smoking the dog treat.

“Kinda odd you not minding your own business.” The Chef shot back. “Shouldn't you be with the others.” The Skeleton didn't respond, blowing smoke in her direction. The Chef rolled her eyes, and began walking back towards her truck, vaguely remembering where it was.

“ain't it illegal for humans to drive after drinking?” He was following her.

“How'd you know I drove here. Maybe I got a ride from someone else.” The Chef's hand briefly rubbed the vial through her jean pocket.

“they'd be here to pick ya up.”

“Why are you following me?” The Chef finally looked back to the skeleton, his eye's boring straight into hers.

“curious, is all. you ain't like the other humans 'round here.” The Skeleton blew more smoke at her, but the wind carried it to the side.

“That's probably because I'm not from around here.” Her truck was in view, and with it... Grey. “What the fuck, dude.” The Chef whispered to herself, rubbing a hand through her hair. Sighing, she pulled her own pack of cigarettes from her other boot, patting herself down for a lighter.

“You got a light?” The Skeleton eyed her.

“answer a question first, and i'll light ya up. where are ya from.”

“Lots of different places.” The Skeleton hummed, giving her a deadpan stare, more smoke billowing from his mouth. “Gotham, before here.” The Skeleton nodded, leaning down and adjusting the dog treat between his fingers.

“No lighter?” The Chef asked, brow raised. All the skeleton did to answer was inhale more from the dog treat, the end lighting brighter as the cherry at the end glowed. The Chef placed her smoke between her lips, and pressed the end to the dog treats ember, pulling a drag as hers lit. The Skeleton never broke eye contact with her. She didn't pull away, as she blew her own smoke into the skeleton face, his eyes seeming to glow lighter. “Thanks. Bye.” Alexandera turned away, walking to Grey, who's own glowing golden eyes watched the scene. She could hear the footsteps behind her. She ignored it in favor of Grey.

“My Lady, I know you wanted me home, but I worried for your safety.” Grey eyed the skeleton behind her. “Are you well?”

“I'm fine Grey... Did you walk here?” Grey nodded. “Fuck, Grey, that's far.”

“I was worried.” That was all he said, eyeing her over, as if to check for injury.

“ya really did it.” The Skeleton behind her whispered. The Chef huffed.

“I swear to fuck, if one more person asks....” The Chef turned to the Skeleton, a slight awestruck look in his eyes. “You're talking about Grey?” His eyes swiveled to her own glare. He nodded once, smoke trailing from his mouth.

“Look, I saved his life, he thinks he owes me. He _knows_ he doesn't owe me shit. Tell the others, I'm sure they all want to know.” Alexandera grumbled, ending sarcastic as she inhaled more of the smoke, hand automatically reaching for her flask, frowning when her hand brushed nothing.

“My Lady, let me get you home, I can smell alcohol on you.”

“Grey, I _always_ smell like liquor.” The Chef joked, as Grey gently pushed her towards the passenger side by the small of her back.

“mutt.” The Chef stopped mid step, head whipping to the Skeleton, glare heavy on her brow.

“ _What the fuck did you call him?”_ She hissed from between clenched teeth, arms bowed out. The Skeleton turned his own head toward The Chef.

“'s my name. Mutt.”

“Really?” The Chef winded down. “Shit, thought I was gonna have to kick your ass.”

“'d like to see that.”

“Don't get cocky.” Mutt, the skeleton, turned away, hand raised in a wave goodbye as he walked off. Once The Chef was belted in, Grey started up the truck, body hunched over as he peeled off.

“I finished the video.” Grey's deep voice almost blending into the rumbling of the truck.

“Okay.”

“You weren't joking when you said criminal.”

“Nope.”

“They could kill you.” The Chef scoffed a laugh, rolling the window down once she found a lighter in the glove compartment.

“Nah, not before they get my pulled pork recipe.”

Grey didn't know how to respond to that.

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_hope yall enjoyed. Hope I also got some of the characters down, and not too odd. But thats not an easy thing with so many head cannons. Don't forget to stalk my on tumblr. I answer all asks for all my stories!_


	4. No Joke

It was raining today.

Rain made her miss home. Well, Gotham to be precise. It was almost always raining in the dirty city, clouds holding back the scant light that made it's way to piss covered streets and hunched over figures, the dark city feeling darker, heavier, more oppressing. Here, it felt... off. The clouds not as dark, less people willing to brave the wet. It was almost home, but not quite. Grey walked dutifully by her side, insisting he hold an umbrella over her head, despite her telling him she didn't need it. She didn't mind the rain. So used to Gotham, she even had a spare set of clothes she kept in her office, a habit from Gotham's regular downpours. In the end, she had relented, if only because he ignored her protests. She glanced back suddenly, rolling her eyes at his tail wagging. Such a small thing to be happy about.

Due to the rain, business was slower than usual, absolutely dead when the weather took a turn, wind picking up and rain pelting the windows, drowning out the radio. A boring day. Her Boys had already scoured and deep cleaned the diner, leaving no chair unturned. She was ready to just lock up, when the door bell jingled. Alexandera couldn't help the small grin as she saw her two best customers come in, water logged and dripping everywhere.

“GOOD AFTERNOON, MISS CHEF!” Papyrus and Blue stood awkwardly by the front door, limbs held tight in a vain effort to make less of a mess. The Chef grabbed a hand full of dry rags used for cleaning and wandered out to her lobby.

“Afternoon, boys. Here.” She handed the rags to the skeletons who gushed in thanks as they patted themselves down, trying to dry themselves. “You're late today.”

“YES, WE'RE SORRY! WE GOT CAUGHT IN THE RAIN AND DECIDED TO WAIT IT OUT.” Blue pouted as he wrung out the bandanna around his neck. “WE DIDN'T EXPECT IT TO BE SO _WET_ OUT.”

“NOT AT ALL! THOUGH IT WAS THRILLING! IT FELT LIKE THE WIND WAS PUSHING US FASTER TODAY! WE ALMOST MADE IT TO THE CITY LIMITS!” The Chef's eyes widened.

“Dude.... That's pretty far.” The boys beamed, proud at her impressed tone. “Well, take a seat, gonna be a while before it lightens up. Hungry?” The boys nodded, sliding into a booth, still trying to dry themselves off. The Chef knew they didn't enjoy her fried fare, so she rummaged in the cooler with Grey, pulling out ingredients for a light salad, plating three dishes, tell her Boys to help themselves. Blue and Papyrus were loudly talking amongst themselves about... puzzles(?), as she kicked a rolling chair to the booth, handing out plates and taking a seat herself.

“So you guys have any trouble out there?” Both Monsters looked at each other briefly.

“YOU MEAN WITH... ANY A.M.L. HUMANS?”

“Yep.” The Chef stabbed her fork into the salad, taking a bite.

“NOT TODAY.” Blue muttered, pouring dressing over his plate.

“Do they ever bother you during runs?” Papyrus shifted in his seat.

“SOMETIMES... THEY JUST NEED TIME TO ADJUST, I KNOW SOME HUMANS WERE SHOCKED WHEN WE CAME FROM UNDERGROUND.” The Chef sighed.

“You know that not all humans are going to change their mind, right?” Both skeletons were silent, looking down at their food. The Chef regretted saying anything.

“NO.” Papyrus broke the silence, The Chef raising a brow at him as he looked at her. “I TRULEY BELEIVE IF MONSTERS JUST SHOW THEM KINDNESS, SHOW THEM THAT WE CAN ALL BE FRIENDS, EVEN THE A.M.L. HUMANS WILL CHANGE THEIR MINDS!”

“THAT'S RIGHT! EVERYONE HAD GOOD IN THEM, WE JUST NEED TO SHOW THEM THAT!” Blue had literal stars in his eyes, hands flat on the table as he bounced in excitement. “THEY MAY BE AFRAID NOW, AND THAT'S WHY THEY ARE MEAN, BUT WE JUST HAVE TO KEEP TRYING!” The Chef rolled her eyes, grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Alright, Juke-Box Hero, calm down before you flip the table.” Blue settled back into his seat, looking up to her in curiosity.

“DID YOU CALL ME A.. A.. _HERO?!”_

“Kinda, it's a song. _He's a juke-box hero, he's got stars in his eyes.”_ The Chef's low pitch sang, pointing her fork at Blue. “Your eye's were just stars. Don't think I didn't notice you guarding the Queen the other day.” Blue beamed, smile wider than ever.

“WHAT ABOUT ME? A COOL GUY LIKE ME SHOULD HAVE A COOL NICKNAME, TOO!” Papyrus was vibrating in his seat, as The Chef looked lazily at him, mulling it over.

“Papaya.” His shoulders dropped a fraction.

“LIKE THE FRUIT?”

“Sorta. I mean, orange and what not, but I was referencing a song again. Japanese song about summertime, and festivals, and having fun. High energy beat and catchy. Pa Pa Ya.” She pulled her phone out, and played the music video for them, all three vibing to the beat.

“I LIKE THIS! THEY LOOK SO HAPPY! AND LOOK, BLUE, EVERYONE THERE IS CHANTING IT, TOO!” The Chef accepted the fact, her phone had been commandeered by the eager skeletons once she played Juke-Box Hero. They began swapping songs, The Chef passing over the raunchier songs she enjoyed in favor of upbeat bubble pop songs she knew the would enjoy, them showing her Mettaton. Not exactly her cup of tea, but it wasn't bad. She had lost track of time, until her alarm went off, the clock showing it was technically time to unlock her doors for the afternoon, even if no one had braved the rain.

“OH DEAR, I HADN'T REALIZED HOW LATE IT WAS! IT'S ALMOST TIME FOR ME TO COOK LUNCH! OUR BROTHERS ARE USELESS IN THE KITCHEN.” Papyrus patted down his pockets and pulled his phone out, though it didn't turn on. “UMM... BLUE?” Blue pulled his own phone out, which also seemed dead.

“Seems like they got water logged. Hold on, Gary!” Gary peeked around the kitchen window. “Get some Tupperware and fill it with rice. Boy's phone's got drowned.” The Chef was already going through her contacts.

“WHAT IS RICE GOING TO DO?” Blue pondered aloud.

“It'll draw out any moisture inside the phone, leave it for a night and try turning it on tomorrow morning. If it doesn't work, then y'all will have to get new phones.” Finding her contact she held up a finger, calling.

“ _morning, kitten. miss me tha' much?”_ Red's voice was even more gravely, rougher around the edges as if he had just woken up.

“I'm not your kitten, Red. Blue and Papyrus are here at the diner, and their phones are dead cause of the rain. Figured you may have a way of getting in touch with their brothers.”

“ _shit. Awright, gimmie a minute and i'll send 'nilla 'nd ashtray ovah.”_ Yeah, his accent was much thicker. Gary placed the rice next to her, taking the plates off the table.

“Thanks, Red.” Alexandera mumbled, pushing the phones deep into the rice.

“ _you can repay me by 'notha date.”_

“Sure, make sure your warden let's you have visitation rights.” He chuckled deeply over the phone.

“ _sure thing, kitten.”_ He hung up before she could say she wasn't his kitten.

“Red's gonna let your family know your here.” She sealed the container, sliding it to the center of the table. “Next time it rains, or you think it'll rain, put your phones in zip locks. It'll keep the rain out.” Papyrus opened his jaw to thank her, before-

“bro!” The Chef whipped around, startled. The front door hadn't opened, but there they were, heaving breathes and tinted sweat running down their skulls. The taller skeleton had a cigarette lit in his mouth.

“Hey, no smoking inside!” The Chef groused, pointing her thumb outside.

“HONESTLY SANS! YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO USE YOUR SHORTCUTS! IT'S LAZY AND AGAINST THE LAW!” Papyrus scolded as he stood to his staggering height, grabbing the Tupperware.

“AND YOU SAID YOU WOULD QUIT SMOKING, PAPY!” Blue hopped up, hands on his hips.

“sorry bro, was just worried about you. we couldn't find you and all our calls went to voicemail.” The tall smoker, Papy, hunched in on himself, pinching the cigarette between his fingers to snuff it.

“what happened?” The shorter skeleton, Sans, eyed The Chef. She knew exactly what that look was. Suspicion, hostility, _fear._

She needed to stop skyping horror movies with Jekyll.

“WE WENT FOR OUR DAILY RUN,” Wait, _daily?!_ “AND THE RAIN DELAYED US. OUR PHONES GOT WET AND WONT WORK NOW. MISS CHEF WAS KIND ENOUGH TO HOST US HERE WHILE WE WAITED FOR THE RAIN TO LESSEN, BUT WE GOT DISTRACTED.” Papyrus smiled down at Alexandera, as Blue bounced on his toes.

“WE WERE SWAPPING SONGS WITH EACH OTHER! PAPY, I EVEN GOT A NEW NICKNAME!” The Chef jumped when the smaller skeleton grabbed her hand.

“you should've come home, or called us, or-”

“BROTHER, WE ARE GROWN MONSTERS. WE CAN HANDLE OURSELVES!” Papyrus sighed. “AT ANY RATE, WE SHOULD GET GOING, LUNCH IS GOING TO BE LATE AT THIS POINT!”

“Kinda late for lunch?” The Chef eyed the clock on her wall.

“MOST OF OUR COUSINS ARE, FOR LACK OF A BETTER TERM, NOCTURNAL. MEALS TEND TO BE A BIT LATER THAN PREFERRED.” Blue supplied. “THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR HELPING, MISS CHEF. HOW MUCH DO WE OWE YOU FOR LUNCH?” The Chef dislodged her hand, crossing her arms as she thought.

“Nothing.”

“PARDON? NOTHING? THAT IS NOT FAIR! YOU MADE US A MEAL AND GOOD COMPANY, THAT CANNOT GO UNREWARDED!”

“Y'all are good. Kept me company on this boring day. I'm sure you noticed the diner's been dead cause of the rain.” The Chef eyed the window, rain still falling hard. “You hanging out was payment enough.” When The Chef looked back to the skeletons, Papyrus and Blue looked overjoyed.

“YOU ARE SO KIND, MISS CHEF!” Alexandera scoffed, ears burning.

“OH! I KNOW! YOU HAVE A DATE WITH RED TOMORROW, RIGHT? YOU CAN STOP BY OUR HOME AND WE CAN COOK YOU A LUNCH AND HANG OUT BEFORE YOU GO OUT!” Blue had stars in his eyes again.

“GASP! THAT'S A BRILLIANT IDEA, BLUE! WE CAN DO PUZZLES, AND WATCH MORE MUSIC VIDEOS, AND I CAN SHOW YOU MY ACTION FIGURE COLLECTION, AND D-”

“Breath, Papaya.” The Chef huffed, grin tugging at her lips. Papyrus inhaled deeply. “Sure, if it's cool with them.” She nodded in the dumbfounded skeletons direction.

“umm, bro, ii don't think that's a great idea with the others there...” Papy tried to counter, but one look at Blue's crestfallen face, flipped his script. “i guess if we give them a heads up...”

“EXCELLENT! UNTIL TOMORROW, MISS CHEF!” Blue held his hand out, and The Chef took it, arms bouncing as he shook it roughly.

“Later, Juke.” Blue's smile was blinding as he zipped to his brothers side. Papy gave her one last glace, and just.... blipped out of existence. One moment there, and the next gone. The Chef blinked hard as her mind raced to catch up and comprehend what she just witnessed.

“Uhh.... What?”

“SIGH. I SUPPOSE A SHORTCUT IS BEST WITH ALL THIS RAIN.” Papyrus gripped the container in his hands a little tighter. “THANK YOU AGAIN, MISS CHEF. YOU HAVE BEEN VERY GRACIOUS! I WILL RETURN THIS IN PRISTINE CONDITION!”

“Don't worry about it, I've got plenty.” Orange drops gathered in the corner of Papyrus's eyes, before he reached out grabbing her into a rib crushing hug, The Chef's feet leaving the ground. An embarrassing wheeze left Alexandera's mouth as he squeezed her.

“YOU REALLY ARE KIND, MISS CHEF!” The Chef tried to reply, but more air fizzled from her lips. She settled on a friendly tap on his arm, as he dropped her back to her feet. “GOOD BYE, MSS CHEF!”

“Later, Papaya.” The Chef didn't miss the fact that Papyrus's brothers' eyes were dark, empty, voids. They disappeared from her view just as the first pair did, leaving The Chef alone in the lobby. The Chef sat back at the booth for a bit, in her thoughts, before texting Red.

_Can you fucking teleport?_

_._

_._

_._

It was a painfully sunny, compared to the previous day, and The Chef hated it. It was way too bright and warm, too many people emerging from their shelters to enjoy the sunny, windy day. Especially the Monsters here in the suburb. The Chef couldn't blame them though. It was well known Monsters would soak up sunshine, having not had it for so long. The earth was still soggy and soft from the water before, and large puddles littered the road. Grey was carrying the umbrella again, this time to protect The Chef from the sun. He kept a close eye on the road, but Alexandera caught his gaze lingering to the picture perfect puffy clouds lazily drifting in the sky. The Chef kept her gaze lowered, scowling as mud clung to her already dirtied boots.

Red had texted her his address, which apparently happened to be where _all_ the skeletons lived. Had to be a decent sized house. Everyone knew Monsters were loaded, what with the gold exchange. Not to mention with the way Monsters were, all kind and helpful with everyone, they had banded together once they had legal permission to literally build the suburb. A veritable barn raising. Flowers lining the streets, odd angled buildings, bright coloured houses, everything bright and cheery.

“Grey.”

“Yes, My Lady?”

“You guys need a more subtle colour palette.” Grey chuckled as The Chef glared at a bright yellow house.

“You're one to talk, My Lady, all due respect.”

“Why's that?”

“Your diners decor.” The Chef punched Grey's arm, the umbrella briefly moving to let sun beat down on her.

“Don't talk shit about my baby.” The Chef scolded, grin on her face. “MY decor is fantastic.”

“Of course, My Lady.” The walked for sometime, the houses getting further apart and sparse, the path beginning to incline as they got closer to the base of the mountain proper, coniferous trees getting closer, thicker, taller. The GPS on Alexandera's phone didn't have an updated map of the suburbs, but the _very_ accurate texts from Blue and Papyrus didn't lead The Chef and The Hound astray. The trees nearly hid the path, just as Papyrus had stated, but Grey's keen eye spotted it. This wasn't the suburb anymore. It was the Mountain itself.

“Weird.” Grey looked down to The Chef. “I thought Monsters wanted to get away from the Mountain...” Grey's golden eyes narrowed, taking in the scenery with a new eye.

“I suppose... they like their privacy?”

“Not Blue and Papyrus. They thrive on attention. Crave it.” The Chef's hand ghosted over where her flask should be. _Fucking Red.... “_ When we get to their place can you sniff out my flask?”

“Yes, My Lady.”

“I'm going to call you Puppy.”

“As you wish, My Lady.” The Chef scowled as she stepped through almost crunchy leaves. The trees began to thin after a good ten minutes of walking, and then...

A fucking mansion. Of a sort.

There was obviously an original foot plan, the front center of the house being solid logs, a cabin. But there was red brick additions to either side of the house, extending it wider. The skeletal frame of another addition being built on top of the left hand side, adding a new level to the home. It was imposing.

“The... fuck?”

“Indeed. Such a large home, for so few people...”

“Curious and curiouser..” The Chef slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing what she said. Grey looked back down to her, head tilted. “Uhh... one of my friends... used to say that.” Grey's nostrils flared. He didn't say anything to that. Walking up to the front door, The Chef could hear a loud ruckus inside, shouting. Alexandera knocked on the front door. Not even a second later...

“MISS CHEF!” The Chef found herself in the crushing hug of Papyrus. “I WAS WORRIED YOU MAY NOT FIND US, BUT I HAD FAITH YOU WERE CLEVER ENOUGH TO GET HERE!” He plopped her back on the ground, Grey's massive paw steadying her. The Chef could feel blood rush to her head.

“Yep. Made it.” Alexandera inhaled deeply, calming the dizziness. “Hope you don;t mind, Grey tagged along.”

“I DON'T MIND AT ALL, WE'RE ALL FRIENDS HERE! OH... UM... WE _ARE_ FRIENDS.... RIGHT?” The tall exuberant skeleton fidgeted with his mittens, a tangerine glow shining from his cheekbones.

“Call me Alexandera, and sure, we're friends.”

“WOWIE! NICKNAMES AND FIRST NAME BASIS. YOU ARE AN EXPERT FRIENDSHIP NEGOTIATOR!” Papyrus swept his arms inward, ushering the pair inside. “BLUE IS IN THE KITCHEN, GRABBING INGREDIENTS FROM OUR PANTRY. I VOLUNTEERED TO INTRODUCE YOU TO THE REST OF THE HOUSEHOLD!”

“Cool.” Was all The Chef could muster as she took in the house. If her diner was a hodge podge of decor, this place was a... cacophony of styles. Sharp swords, posters, shelves lined with knick knacks and books, paintings of bones, photos, and all sorts of things lined the walls. Just in the entry way, (vestibule?), The Chef could see the immediate rooms were all painted different colours, none complimenting each other well. It was like different designers couldn't decide what to do with the home.

The Chef _loved_ it.

“PLEASE REMOVE YOU SHOES HERE! UNDYNE AND ALPHYS INFORMED ME THAT IS SOMETHING HUMANS DO IN THEIR HOMES!”

“Not all of 'em, but okay.” The Chef undid the laces to her muddy boots, leaves stuck under the lower laces, and slid them off, she didn't have on matching socks today. Then again.... she couldn't remember a time when they did.

“EDGE, COME! MEET MY NEW FRIEND!” The Chef slid her _other_ phone into cup of her bra, before straightening up to meet.... copious amounts of leather. The skeleton before her was around the same height as Papyrus, clad in leather and deep maroon clothe. Chains and spikes bedecked the figure, and a mouth full of sharp, interlocking jagged teeth set in a deep scowl. The Chef felt her own mouth dipping to match. His eyes were the same as Papyrus's though, the only difference was the long gouges slipping down his slender skull.

He looked like a dick.

They silently eyed each other, sizing the other up. The Skeleton didn't say anything as his eyes flittered over her person, lingering on Grey as if trying to remember something, before glancing back down at The Chef. Papyrus began fidgeting with his mittens again.

“EDGE, THIS IS MISS CHE- MISS ALEXANDERA AND HER FRIEND, GREY. MISS ALEXANDERA, GREY, MY COUSIN, EDGE.” The was another moment of silence, a tense stare down. The Chef didn't enjoy silence too much.

“I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.” The Chef pointed to the scar on her shoulder, laid bare in her tank top, before pointing to his eye. The Skeleton, Edge, tilted his head back just so, the light from the windows making them look just a bit more... intense.

“A BATTLE. MY REWARD FOR UNDERESTIMATING MY ENEMY... ONCE.” His voice was a smidge more shrill than Papyrus's, a tad louder. The Chef felt the corner of her mouth twitch into a half cocked grin.

“Got kidnapped, tortured, beaten, then shot. Head butted the guy so hard, his helmet cracked. Have it sitting in my bathroom as a trashcan.” Grey huffed behind her.

“Wondered what that was about.” The Wolf chuckled, as Edge's shoulder loosened just a little. Papyrus's mouth hung open.

“MISS CHEF! YOU... WHY WOULD ANYONE HURT YOU?!” The Chef tried to give a soothing smile, but she knew it wouldn't have the desired effect. She'd been told her smiles were... grisly.

“WHO HURT MISS CHEF?!” Blue came sprinting to the small group, eye lights blown wide in worry.

“No one, now. What's on the menu, Juke-Box?” Blue looked distraught, looking her over for injuries, before calming.

“WE DECIDED ON MAKING OUR SIGNATURE DISHES... YOU'RE OKAY, RIGHT MISS CHEF?” The Chef ran a hand through her hair, fingers grazing over the fuzz that was getting too long.

“Call me Alexandera. I'm fine. Don't worry. I've been through the ringer a few times, and I'm still standing.” Blue took a moment to process her words, before his eyes swirled into stars.

“BETTER THAN YOU'VE EVER BEEN?”

“Yep. So, signature dishes?”

“SPAGHETTI AND TACOS!”

“TACOS AND SPAGHETTI!” Both boys shouted at the same time, beaming.

“Well boys, mind if I sit in and watch?” The boys went to reply, when a new voice filled the hall.

“heya, can i steal your buddy, bro?” Papyrus's brother, Sans stood in the doorway opposite of The Chef, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, a small tear in the pocket revealing a small patch of white bone.

“OH! HELLO BROTHER! I'M IMPRESSED, YOU'RE AWAKE BEFORE LUNCH!” Papyrus placed his hands on his hips, laughing. “I'M FINALLY RUBBING OFF ON YOU!” His laugh filled the hall.

“sure are, bro. come on, figured i'd give ya the official tour, let the boys cook in peace.” He kept eye contact with The Chef.

“Sure.” Blue's shoulders dropped.

“AWW, I WANTED YOU TO SEE MY MAGNIFICENT CULINARY ABILITIES!” Blue pouted.

“You know some cooks are able to taste dishes just by knowing what ingredients are in a dish?”

“REALLY?!” Both boys gasped, looking at The Chef in awe.

“Yep. I might even get full just watching you. You go ahead, I'll be back in time for a hot plate.” Both of the skeletons rushed off with promises to seek her out. Edge wandered off.

“Grey.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

“Find Red. I want my flask.” Grey stalked off, tail brushing Sans shoulder.

“lets talk, buddy.”

.

.

.

The Backyard was incredible. Vegetable garden to the left, flowers to the right, off in the distance a sandy patch of earth marked by a white ring. A large tree with a tire swing, the porch with a few hammocks, lounge chairs, and ashtrays have full of cigars, cigarettes, and dog treats with charred ends.

“listen, human-”

“Papyrus is an adult.” The Chef interrupted, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket, lighting one.

“what?”

“Papyrus. Is. An. _Adult._ ” The Chef inhaled deeply, locking eyes with the shorter skeleton. The top of his skull to her brow. “You're his big brother, right?”

“yep.” The lights in his eyes dim.

“Figured. Look, I _get_ it. You wanna protect him from the big bad world, and the even bigger, badder humans. Humans are fucking shit. _I know._ ” The Chef inhaled again, holding her breathe a moment longer than necessary. “ _I know_ you don;t like me. Don't think I haven't seen you staring me down at my diner. _I know_ you don't trust me, probably don;t trust any humans, and I don;t blame you.”

“then why are you here?”

“Because Papyrus and Blue offered. Because they are good people. Because I like them. Because if anyone tried to lay a hand on them,” The Chef flicked her ash on his shoe. “I would break that hand.”

“why?” Sans eye's brightened a touch.

“Because I'm not afraid to get my hand dirty. I've been fucked over by the world one too many times. I'm no hero, but if I can dick over some fucker trying to pull some shit, well... all the better. That goes for you, too.” The Chef had to admit, the dark sockets, void of the lights, sent a small shiver down her spine.

“what'dya mean by that, _pal._ ”

“Just as I said before. Papyrus is an adult. If you keep fucking coddling him, treating him like he's made of glass, then he's never going to really learn how shitty the world is. What if he decided to up and move to the other side of the country? What'll happen when _you're not there anymore?”_ Weightless... Heavy... Compressed...

The Chef couldn't even lower her head to see her feet off the ground.

“ _i will_ _ **always**_ _there for him.”_

“You weren't yesterday.” His smile was taught. “He ran to the fucking edge of the city, and you didn't know. If he and Blue decided to stop at any other place, they might be dust.” The grass tickled her nose, blood filling her mouth, tounge throbbing.

“ _shut up.”_

“He's sociable, he's friendly, he's sweet and naive. You gotta let him learn, or he'll be stunted. You will stunt him.” The weight on her chest pressed harder, breathing was getting hard.

“ _why the hell do you care, human?”_

“Because... Because there are so few _good_ , truly good people out there. If they want to survive, they have to learn it for themselves.”

“ _is that what you are, human? **Good?!**_ ”

“Nope. I'm fucked.” Her laugh was weak and breathy. “But I'm not gonna let anything happen to him.”

“ _ **WHY?!”**_

“Because he's my FRIEND!”

It was still.

The Chef could feel the sun shining on her skin.

Could smell the blooming flowers.

Could hear the bird singing.

Could feel the pressure lifting from her body.

She stood, snatching her smoldering cigarette from the grass.

She took a deep drag from it.

Then released it.

“He's your brother. I almost died for mine, and we're not even blood related. I _get it._ But my brat knows the world ain't sunshine and rainbows, and _because of that,_ he also knows who has his back, who he can trust and who he can't.” The Chef looked back to the skeleton, a fine sheen of blue moisture coating his face. “You gotta let him spread his wings, but also let him know you're the nest. The place he can fly back too, when things get too hard.”

“and you're someone who's got his back?”

“I have a habit of taking in strays.”

…

“if you hurt him, **you're in for a bad time.** ” The Chef nodded.

“Wouldn't expect anything less. I've threatened to break my brats fathers nose.”

“heh..... _nose_ joke?”

“Jesus fucking hell, that was bad.” The Chef ran a palm down her face. “Papyrus warned me but... fuck dude, that was bad.”

.

.

.

_hope it was in character enough. Enjoy._


	5. Down Boy

Sans was having a lovely dream. Which, considering some of his _experiences_ , was a miracle. There was his favorite bar, filled with babes who were all kinds of friendly. Grilbs had quit nagging him about his tab, and his bro was in such a good mood, that even he wasn't screeching as loud.

Yeah, this was the life.

Then.... the lights went out. The chill from Snowdin wafted through the bar, Grillby flickering in the wind, before he, too, went out.

Extinguished.

Gone.

Like... that time...

Growling reverberated in his skull, his vision warping. The stool fell away, and he was sent falling, floating, drifting in a void.

The Void.

“ _Red.”_

What? It's black here. All encompassing. Oppressing. Dark.

Dark.

Yet darker.

“ _RED!”_

Sans jolted awake, his socket flaring to life, filling the room with a red glow. Hunch over him was teeth, fangs. Maw opened, saliva dripping from curled lips, but in the glow of his eye, it looked like... blood. Sans would never admit it, but his scream was a touch shrill. His magic grabbed the unused lamp on the floor next to his mattress, and it flung at the figure standing over him, shattering. He ported away, across the room, hand grabbing his blackout curtain and pulling it to the side.

The Hound stood, hunched over, fragments of porcelain clung in his fur, as he stared at Sans blankly.

“Where is My Lady's flask?” Sans could feel his racing SOUL calm a touch.

“wha' the fuck is ya problem?! ya can' jus' wake a Monster up like tha'!”

“My Lady wants her flask back, Red. Where is it?” Sans, Red, growled in frustration.

“fuckin' stars, asshole!” Grey didn't move from his spot next to Red's bed, tail twitching in agitation.

“I refuse to go through your belonging. That would be rude.”

“and wakin' me up was _not?_ ” Red's thoughts caught up to him. “wait, kittens here?” Grey nodded.

“Yes. She is with Papyrus's brother at the moment.” Red grumbled, walking to his overflowing closet filled with dirty clothes and empty mustard bottles, rummaging around until he felt the touch of cool metal.

“Disgusting.” Red felt is brow pinch.

“'t's tha safest place for anything in my room.” Red didn't know why he was trying to defend himself to the stranger, but held the flask out none the less. Grey went to grab the flask, when a faint blue light reflected off the metal. The Hounds head snapped to the window in an instant, Red doing the same.

“aw fuck, 'nilla!” “ _Sans”_ had Kitten pinned. Intent flooded Red's room, as the growling from his dream became a reality.

“ _How dare he!_ ”

Red wished he was still asleep.

.

.

.

The Chef rubbed her face, annoyed. Seriously, puns? Right after he threatened her? She was used to some odd behavior, emotional whiplash a norm with her circus themed friends, but this was something else. They did it for the fun, this guy did it for... _family._ He didn't even apologize. Not that she wanted one anyway. She spat blood onto the grass, running her tounge gingerly over he teeth, feeling for damage. Just a nick, nothing too bad, but alcohol might burn a little harder the next drink she had. She made it to the porch when Grey barreled through the door, the frame splintering.

Fur on end, tail ridged, ears back, eyes molten, he looked furious, all teeth and snarls. Eyes only on the short figure behind her.

“ _You!”_ Fuck. Grey stalked down the steps, arms akimbo, snarling. _“You DARE touch her!”_

… _._ Oh....

Oh _FUCK!_

The Chef was a little awestruck. This wasn't the huddled ball of fur behind her diner. This... This was The Hound. The Queen's royal guard. And he looked pissed. Red was suddenly at The Chef's side, read beads of sweat dripping from his face.

“the fuck were ya thinkin', 'nilla?!” Red hollered, hand touching The Chef's arm. “ya good, kitten?”

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” The Chef looked over her shoulder, seeing more skeletons standing on the porch, Mutt, Papy, Edge, and three more she didn't know, one she did recognize from months ago. The one who caused a fuss.

The Chef never forgot a Karen.

“hey, buddy, listen, it was just a misundersta-”

“ _I smell her BLOOD!”_ Grey hunched over, hands touching the ground on all fours. A swirling glow enveloped Grey. Blues, red, oranges, maroons, purples clashing with each other. Grey had stopped progressing, but she could see him twitching, inching ever forward.

Must of been what Sans had done to her.

“shit! kitten, ya gotta call 'im off!” Red was sweating harder, The Chef could see a red mist wafting from his eye. Looking back again, some of the other Monsters looked the same. One eye gone, the other blazing.

That would make a sick tattoo.

“buddy, you gotta calm down, everything is fine!” Sans pleaded, tone strangled and words choked as whatever magic he was using straining him. One of the colours holding Grey vanished.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE NOW, COMIC?” One of the new skeletons shouted from behind her. Another colour gone, and Grey tumbled closer to Sans, howling.

“kitten! he ain't gonna stop!” More colours gone. The Chef took a drag from her smoke, pinching the end of the filter to release the ember to fall.

Another colour gone, and Grey surged forward. Sans looked terrified.

…

“ _ **HEEL!**_ ” Smoke billowed from The Chef's lips, as Grey skidded to a halt, claws tearing at the grass. Grey sat stark still in front of Sans, who was trembling. Red heaved a heavy sigh. The Chef strode forward, running a hand through her hair. Sans looked at her, the lights in his eyes bright pinpricks. Grey was panting, his chest the only thing moving when The Chef stepped in between The Skeleton and The Hound. Grey's golden eyes flicked up to hers, pupils dilated, drool dripping from his maw. The Chef bent forward, lightly flicking his nose. Grey whined. “Bad dog.”

Alexandera ran a hand between Grey's ears, pushing the fur down. She could hear Sans sigh, then a thud. Grey growled at the movement.

“Hey!” Alexandera grabbed at the blue collar around his neck. “Drop it. I'm fine.”

“He _hurt_ you, My Lady.” The Hound shook. “He shouldn't get away with it.” The Chef rolled her eyes, before turning to Sans, the skeleton lying on the ground, hand on his face. The Chef lightly kicked his slipper clad foot. The Skeleton jumped at the contact, looking at her between his fingers.

“There. We're even.” The Chef turned again. “And you! Calm the fuck down. I've been through worse. You think this future tonkatsu broth can fucking hurt me? You really think me that pathetic?!” Grey's ears dropped, and he lowered himself closer to the ground, whining.

“No, My Lady, I don't. I thought-”

“You fucking thought wrong, Grey. I ain't a fuckin' pushover.” Grey's whining increased, and Alexandera winced. “Come on, don't... don't fucking pout. You're better than that. Get up.” Grey was on his feet in an instant, head bowed.

“I apologize, My Lady.”

“Not me you need to say sorry to. Play nice, then go inside. I want my damn flask back.” The Chef left the two of them, rubbing her eye in annoyance. The group on the porch eyed her in varying degrees of wariness and curiosity. Red by her side in an instant. “Sorry about your door. I'll pay for the damages or have Grey fix it.”

“is... is that... the hound?” A shy voice asked, the tall skeleton sunk deep in the hood of his jacket. A silver flask was held up in front of The Chef, Red grinning at her as she took it, unscrewing the top.

“Thanks, Red.” The Chef swallowed deeply. “Yep. That's Grey. If he gives you problems, call me. He's on a _tight fucking leash!”_ The Chef raised her voice, making sure Grey knew just how annoyed she was. She could hear him walking up behind her, the grass crinkling a little as he stepped forward.

“AND JUST WHO ARE YOU?” One of the new skeletons asked. He stood ramrod straight, the jacket and suit pants pressed and pristine.

“Alexandera. Grey, apologize.” The Chef took another swallow.

“I cannot express my apologies enough for the damage I have done.” The Chef could see Grey bow from her peripheral. It was silent, awkward. Until....

“Do I smell smoke?” The Chef sniffed a little, looking past the skeletons, seeing a black fog roll through the hall.

“WOULDN'T BE A SURPRISE. CREAMPUFF AND SHORTY ARE COOKING.” Edge grumbled, eye lights rolling.

“Holy SHIT!” The Chef pushed past the skeletons into the house. Grey stood back to his full height.

“If I may?” The skeletons parted, letting Grey in the house. The group could hear the humans shout of surprise, knowing she had reached the kitchen.

“WELL THAT WAS EVENTFUL.” Sans finally had gathered his wits, and shuffled up to the porch. Red smacked the back of his head, the crack of bone on bone echoing.

“yer a fuckin' idiot, 'nilla.” Sans rubbed the back of his skull.

“i was just tryi-”

“shuddap. ya better thank ya lucky stars she called 'im off.” Red shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “hope she still wanna go out afta all tha'.”

“THAT IS THE HUMAN YOU GALAVANTED WITH?” Edge asked, narrowing his eyes.

“ya, boss.” Edge huffed, before nodding.

“I APPROVE.” The Skeleton left Red's dropped as he stomped off.

“well... shit. first time fer everythin'.”

.

.

.

The Chef tried to remember a worse sight. Truly, she tried. She conjured from the depths of her memories old restaurants she worked at, greasy pits, unmopped floors, rotten food and roaches. Nothing....

Nothing could beat the sight before her.

It would have been a beautiful kitchen, all chrome and tile, if it wasn't for the disastrous amount of sauce and glitter and smoke and _fire_ everywhere. The stove, floor, walls, ceiling.

And the two skeletons didn't even look bothered.

She pushed them aside, earning shouts of surprise from Papyrus and Blue, as she poured salt over the grease fire, covering the pan with a lid. She shut off all the burners, used an errant towel to move some pots into the sink, before using the towel to snuff out a tiny fire on the floor.

“What... What the actual fuck, dude?”

“LAUNGUAGE, MISS ALEXANDERA!” Blue chirped, stained gloves fisted on his hips. “WE TOLD YOU WE WOULD FIND YOU WHEN LUNCH WAS READY!”

“SHE JUST COULDN'T RESIST THE SMELL OF OUR CULINARY EXPERTISE!” Papyrus chortled, looking proud.

“Is this normally how you cook?” The Chef took stock of the counters, now that the smoke was more dispersed. Some base ingredients were there, tortillas, hot sauce, noodles, meat, but then there was crafting glitter, and chocolate, and a milk jug half empty and very obviously expired.

“WHY YES! WE WERE TAUGHT BY SOME OF THE BEST! YOU CAN TASTE OUR PASSION IN EVERY BITE!”

“The glitter?”

“IT BRIGHTENS THE FLAVOUR!”

“The expired milk?”

“THAT'S JUST YOGURT!”

The Chef just stared at the boys, trying to process. She took a swig from her flask, grimacing when she felt it empty the last drops on her tounge.

“Tell me _exactly_ your process. Tell me from start to finish your recipe and technique.”

The Chef regretted it instantly. In ten minutes, she thanked whatever force ruled over her luck was merciful that day.

“SO ARE YOU READY TO DELIGHT IN OUR DISHES?”

“No. You can't cook.” You could hear a pin drop.

“W-WHAT?”

“You. Can't. Cook. Whoever taught you couldn't cook either. I don't know about Monsters, but humans can't eat this kind of glitter, you burned the meat beyond what could even be called blackened, yogurt and spoiled milk are two different things, and you... did you even wash your hands?”

“OUR GLOVES ARE ALWAYS CLEAN!”

“That's not the _point!_ Boys...” The Chef ran her hand through her hair. “This... this has got to be the worst fucking thing I've ever seen. Seriously, has no one ever _told_ you?”

“PAPY ALWAYS EATS MY FOOD!” Blue looked devastated. “EDGE AND BLACK ARE ALWAYS MAKING FUN OF OUR DISHES, BUT WHAT DO THEY KNOW? THEY PUT WHOLE BOTTLES OF VINEGAR IN THEIR FOOD!” The Chef gagged, this couldn't get any worse. “WHO WANTS TO EAT GLASS ANYWAY?!”

Never mind.

“Alright. Fuck.” Alexandera walked out of the kitchen, Papyrus and Blue following her. The rest of the house was congregated in the living room. The Chef zeroed in on Sans and Papy. “You two.” Sans flinched at her tone, Papy rolling his head to look at her, she knew the rest were watching.

“yeah?”

“Tell you brothers the truth.”

“what truth?” Papy asked, a stick in his mouth bobbing.

“BROTHER, AM I... AM I A BAD COOK?” Blue tugged at the cuff of his glove. Papy's jaw slackened.

“bro, did she tell you that?”

“DON'T DEFLECT!” Blue had tears in the corner's of his eyes. “TELL ME THE TRUTH!”

“I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU THAT YOU'RE SHIT FOR YEARS NOW!” Black grinned from his seat, an over stuffed winged back chair. The Chef turned to the little Karen.

“From what I hear, you're just as bad. You too, Edge.” The Chef pulled her flask out and through it at Red, who caught it with ease. “Refill that.” Red grinned wider.

“i like'em bossy, kitten.” He disappeared.

“I AM A PHENOMENAL COOK! WHAT DO YOU KNOW, HUMAN?”

“I know that I've had three very successful businesses. I've trained at the best culinary school in Metropolis, catered to the richest of snobs, and been featured in newspapers.” The Chef omitted that the reason she was in the news was for her little outburst at said event, but they didn't need to know that. “And what I just saw and heard was nothing short of appalling. You don't put glass in food.” Edge huffed, looking away hearing that last little dig.

“what gives you the right to barge in here and tell them they-” Papy grumbled.

“Brother...” Holy shit, he does has an inside voice. Blue looked ready to cry, Papyrus just staring at his brother helplessly. Papy sighed.

“i didn't wanna hurt your feelings...” Blue gave a choked sob.

“ALL THIS TIME... YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME! I... I CAN'T BELEIVE YOU JUST...” The Chef grimaced. She didn't come her to cause drama... Well... any more any way.

“Blue, every one lies. Sometimes they lie for good reason. It sucks, but family lies more than anyone.” Papy glared at her. “You're brother probably just wanted to build up your confidence. Don't be to mad, in a couple of months, he'll be begging for more.” The Chef knew she was gonna regret this...

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” Papyrus was the one to pick up the thread she dropped.

“I'm a fucking chef. You know how doctors take an oath to help everyone, do no harm and all that shit?” They nodded. “Yeah, well... I'm not about to let y'all serve food that bad. You four are going to meet me at my diner on Wednesday, and we'll start from there.”

“YOU'RE GOING TO TEACH US HOW TO COOK?”

“That's the plan.”

…...

Not a great plan....

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_hope you enjoyed. dont forget to stalk me on tumblr, I crave human interaction_


	6. Lessons

“So, three days?” The Chef adjusted the phone, squeezing it tighter between her shoulder and ear, before stirring the grits in the pot. She could hear the excited squealing of toddlers in the background, little Lexi and baby Levi causing a riot in the background. Noriko's voice roaring playfully after her children.

“Yeah, that should be good. Mr. Luthor said I have a bit of vacation time saved up, and should use it. Ko could use some time off, too. She's been such a trooper with the two.” Gene didn't need to know The Chef had been the one to push Lex into releasing his prized chef. All it cost her was another date.

She hoped the paparazzi didn't catch wind of that.

“Alright, see you then, Afro-Samurai.”

“See you soon, Space Cowboy.”

.

.

.

“Fucking shit, Mama Chef. You've no idea how much we miss you! Cobblepot's been nice an' all, letting us in the Lounge, but it ain't the same, ya know?” Grey followed dutifully beside The Chef, as she snorted loudly. He wished she'd laugh more.

“Ain't surprised, you're more revenue in his pocket. Gotta favor to ask you.”

“Name it, Mama Chef.”

“You've heard the rumors about Puzzle's getting the smackdown in my kitchen?”

“Yeah! Few of his men couldn't stop laughing about the sauce stains. Some ended up with black eyes.”

“Well, I got another coming in. Need you to spread the word, I know one of you made the twitter account.” The Chef sipped at her coffee mug, humming at the burn of heat and alcohol.

“What's the word?” Deker asked, she could hear his giddiness over the phone.

“Initiation day. Two weeks from now. I need it _busy._ ”

“How busy we talking?”

“No mid day break busy.”

“Oh shit. Who pissed you off, Mama Chef?”

“No one, yet. But I gotta feeling.”

“I'll take care of it.”

.

.

.

Marcus was surprised by the huge order that came in. The Checklist four pages long, the walk in and freezer packed to the brim, food sitting on milk crates to keep it off the floor. Orders weren't usually this large, even when they had catering events. He and Grey took care of it all, sliding things into place, Marcus rubbing his hands to stave off the cold. Grey looked unaffected. He was even more surprised when after dinner was done, and the diner's door was officially closed, Boss said to not clean anything. That was highly unusual. Boss was very keen on keeping her business pristine. He, Kyle, and Gary shared a confused look.

“Uh.. Boss?” Kyle hedged, peeping over The Chef's shoulder as she texted. “Is everything okay?”

“Mhmm.” The Chef shut the phones screen off and shoved it in her pocket, turning to them. “Why?”

“Big order, no cleaning', Deker called earlier asking 'bout stuff....” Gary piped up. “You up to somethin'.” The Boys tried not to shudder when her infamous scowl of a smile slowly grew on her lips.

“Remember what happens when someone insults my diner?” The Boys nodded. It had only happened a few times back home. That was all it took. “Well... I'm about to teach some fuckers a lesson.. Come in when doors unlock, no earlier.” The Chef wondered back towards her office, Grey following after. Gary, Kyle, and Marcus shared another look, before Kyle scoffed a laugh.

“God help them idiots.”

“God got nothin' to do with it.”

.

.

.

Edge was used to rising early. He had to be with his position in the Royal Guard. Not yet a captain, but well on his way. He prided himself on punctuality, so it agitated him having to wait for the others. The Tiny Tyrant was whining the whole way, saying how this was ridiculous, this was insulting, this, that, and the other. Edge would have been more annoyed, if he didn't agree with him.

He wouldn't say that out loud, though.

Cream puff and Tiny were positively giddy in excitement, the sorrow of finding out how bad of cooks they were having been worn away at the prospect of learning from their “friend”.

The addition of _Captain_ , the near twin to Black in all but demeanor, was a surprise. He followed along silently. His first trip outside of the Monster suburb since first arriving to this universe. When asked why he was accompanying, he cocked a brow ridge, but didn't answer.

He was curious, too.

This human wasn't soft and weak like the ones that roamed Mt. Ebott.

The sun had yet to rise of the misty mountains, a grey blue light illuminating the city as they followed the softer skeletons through the heart of the city, pointing out places of interest. No body was really listening, solely focused on getting to their destination. Soon they could see the familiar hulk of fur and blue hair. The Hound and his Mistress.

She was leaned against her diner wall, a cigarette lit in her mouth, a steaming thermos in one hand, and the glow of a phone in the other. She was in a stained t-shirt, grungy pants, and hair pulled into a messy rats nest of a bun, strands of hair sticky out. A tattered, overstuffed messenger bag strung across her body. The Human obviously didn't take pride. Grey gently nudged her arm, alerting her of the skeletons presence. She pushed herself off the wall and waited for them to stop before her.

“GOOD MORNING, MISS ALEXANDERA!” Cream puff gushed, long legs pushing him closer, faster, in his excitement. Edge noted she didn't respond verbally. Merely nodding. When the skeletons were congregated before her, she dropped the cigarette on the ground, crushing it under her muddy, torn boots.

“Morning. Couple of ground rules.” Her tone was authoritative, hard. No different than the other day. “While you here, I'm not gonna baby you, sugar coat shit, or coddle you. You are gonna listen to everything I say, follow every instruction. I don't care how much you bitch, whine, or moan. You're here to learn, and I'm here to run a business. If I think you're unteachable, I'll throw you out.

I'm not your friend until I lock these doors. I'm not Miss Alexandera, I'm Chef. I won't answer any questions you have unless I'm addressed as such. Do you understand?”

“YES, MISS ALEXA-, YES, CHEF!” Blue corrected himself, grinning sheepishly. The Human regarded him a moment, before making eye contact.

“Today is a slow day for most restaurants. That means today, you'll be cleaning.”

“I THOUGHT WE WE'RE HERE TO _'LEARN'._ ” The Tyrant mocked. Edge could appreciate the glare The Human gave the brat.

“You are. This is how you'll learn. If you can't handle it, go the fuck home. I don't have time for you, Karen.”

“MY NAME IS THE MALEFICENT BLACK!” The Human didn't respond, turning her back to unlock the door, ignoring the shout of protest from the Tyrant. It was dark with the blinds drawn, but Monsters were adept at seeing in the dark, having lived in it for so long. Edge could see the mismatched shapes of chairs and tables in the lobby, as The Human strode confidently through the mass of shapes to the side wall. As if she had done this for years. She probably had. Once the lights were on, Edge gaped with the others at the absolute mess. Food littered the floor, plates and cups sitting on crumb covered tables. The Human walked past the mess into the kitchen, waiting for the group to follow. The kitchen was worse. Dishes were piled up in the sink, knives and leftover scraps of food covered the back counters. Sauce spills coated the floor and surfaces.

“W-WHAT _HAPPENED_!” Cream puff questioned, surprised heavy in his voice.

“This is what a restaurant can look like if you don't keep up. Cleanliness is key in any restaurant. The term is clean as you go. You make a mess, you clean it. If you see a mess, clean it, or inform someone who can if you can't. For the next hour, you will be cleaning.” The Chef pulled a blue and gold hat from her messenger bag, handing the bag to Grey, who slipped further into the kitchen.

“AN HOUR? CHILD'S PLAY!” The Tyrant scoffed, arms crossed.

“I'll be timing you. Karen,”

“ _BLACK!_ ”

“You'll be cleaning bathrooms and lobby. Edge, dish pit. Blue, prep area. Papyrus, you'll be helping him. And...” The Human looked at the fifth skeleton.

“CAPTAIN.” Edge hated that he got that name. If only because he had achieved Edge's dream in his universe. The Chef cocked a brow.

“You'll be helping me with the grill.” Captain nodded. “One last thing. Gloves off.”

“WHY?” Blue asked, tugging at the cuff of his own blue gloves.

“Food safety. No gloves, no jewelry, nothing that could carry bacteria or fall into food. Scarfs, too. Edge, you'll have to remove your jacket. Studs can fall off.” Edge removed his jacket begrudgingly, handing it off to The Humans outstretched hand, the others doing the same with their own articles of clothing. “Time starts now.”

The Skeletons hesitated a moment.

“ _Move!”_ Edge could appreciate the commanding voice.

.

.

.

The Chef had underestimated how quick the skeletons would finish. Or just how _clean_ they would get everything. The unexpected tag-a-long was quiet but efficient, working with her in tandem to clean the grill and cooking area, even going as far as to use magic to wipe off the overhead vents to a shine. After forty minutes, The Chef wandered out to check on her lobby, the Little Karen huffing as he finished mopping the last of the floor.

“Did you get clean water before mopping the lobby?” The Skeleton scowled at her, the wood of the mop handle creaking as his hand tightened.

“WHY WOULD I DO THAT, IT'S MOP WATER.”

“Chance of cross contamination. Change the water, grab the mop with a red handle and mop the lobby again.”

“THAT'S RIDICULOUS, THE WATER HAS DISINFECTANT.”

“The door is right there. Leave if you can't handle it.” The Chef walked away, ignoring the blustering behind her. Back in the kitchen she was greeted by the rest, Edge's torn crop top soaked, but dishes piled high. She inspected the dishes, noting a few still had some soap suds clinging to them. She placed them back on the sink. Checking the prep area, it was spotless, save for some old stains under the wall shelves. She already knew the grill and stove were good.

“Alright. Wash your hands.” She watched with a critical eye as each skeleton washed their hands, noting who didn't wash their hands long enough, or who didn't get their wrists... wrist bones? “Again.”

“WHAT?” Edge asked, sharpened points of his fingers dripping with water.

“You didn't do it right.” The Chef proceeded to show them what to do, sing happy birthday twice, use a paper towel to turn off the faucet, new paper towel to dry hands, gloves on. She made each of the skeletons do it over until they did it right. The Karen huffing when she made him do it four times, until she was satisfied, after he returned from moping the lobby again. Once the group was gloved up, she directed them to the prep area, pointing to the knives stuck to the wall mounted magnetic rack.

“Do any of you know what each knife is used for?”

“A KNIFE IS JUST A KNIFE.” Edge replied. The Chef rolled her eyes.

“This is a paring knife, this serrated one is a bread knife, this is a fillet knife, this is a chef's knife.” She pointed to each one as she spoke. “Each one is used for a different reason, each does a different job. Some are more flexible, others more ridged. You need to know what tool to use, how to use it, and how to care for it.” Grey wandered out of the cooler, a crate filled with different foods. He placed it on the counter, as The Chef pulled a different food off the counter. She proceeded to chop, slice, julienne everything quickly, hands almost blurring as she broke down a fish, pulling the spine out, and tossing the guts into a trash can that was slid next to her side.

The Chef stepped away, letting the skeletons inspect the food on the boards, Blue and Papyrus gushing at how uniform her cuts were, Black closely eyeing the fish's head, dead eyes staring back.

“If a knife is dull, it will fuck you over. It will crush more delicate foods, it will slow you down, and in some cases, it could harm you.” The Chef held out her hands, and the group looked at the scars on her fingers, Captain noting that one of her fingers was a little misshaped, as if the tip hand been cut clean through. “Care for your knife, and it will care for you. Now, hold these knives.” Each skeleton grabbed a knife, and The Chef corrected each of them. Pinch the blade hear, relax here. She was direct, strict. Having them drop the knives, then pick them back up again, and again, and again, until it was second nature to hold it properly.

The rest of the morning was spent on “the basics”, as The Chef said. The basics covering a wide variety of knife techniques, how to properly use a wet stone to sharpen them, how to prep food properly. The Chef didn't expect anything less than perfect. Blue, Papyrus, and the Karen having the most trouble, wanting to fall back on their previous teachings of smashing food to a pulp with their bare hands.

“BUT HOW WILL ANYONE TASTE THE PASSION WE PUT INTO OUR FOOD?”

“You won't be cooking _anything_ until you get this down. This isn't passion, this is a fucking joke.” The softer skeletons wincing at her language and tone. “Passion doesn't come from decimating ingredients and slinging them on the wall. It comes from honing your craft, in knowing _exactly_ when to add something, how high the heat should be, what flavors come together to create an experience on a plate. And it comes from _holding the knife right, KAREN!_ ” The Chef barked as Black gripped the handle of the knife in a clutched fist, no fingers to be seen pinching the butt of the blade.

This was going to be a long week.

.

.

.

The next day was much of the same, get to the diner early, have the skeletons clean, this time with less time, have them wash and rewash their hands, drop the knife, hold the knife, drop it, hold it, again and again. Break down this fish, trim the fat here, dice this, dice it again, but more even.

“Karen! Wash your hands, fresh gloves on.”

“WHAT?”

“You touched your shirt, cross contamination. Wash hands, change gloves.” Edge and Captain held back their cruel chuckles while Black complained loudly, The Chef watched him closely for the rest of the morning, calling him and the others out anytime they touched their clothes or walls.

“Wash hands, change gloves.”

She had them work with dull knives, letting them get a feel for what a bad knife felt like, and how to properly sharpen it.

“If you start with small circles, you _have_ to keep doing circles. No long strokes on the next grit. Same goes for if you start with long strokes. Angle the knife just so.” She drilled them over and over, correcting them bluntly, no need for sugar coating

“Wash hands, change gloves.” Blue sighed, disappointed that he had forgotten. They stayed later that day, being directed around the early morning breakfast rush, taking orders, some more politely than others, being constantly told to wash hands, and change gloves. Once she was sure they had the basics down, she gave them their first, actual cooking task.

“Make an egg.”

“JUST AN EGG?” Edge was perplexed. A simple egg? He could do that in his sleep.

“The oldest test in the book. How you cook an egg can show a chef a lot about how skilled you are.” The Chef didn't bother using her thermos to hide her liquor, flask shining in the fluorescent light. “Now. Make egg.” She nodded her head to the dozens of eggs sitting on the counter, before wandering away from the kitchen out to the lobby, phone in hand. Captain took no time waiting, grabbing several eggs and getting to work. Blue and Papyrus following after. Black had been in a foul mood since day one, The Chef riding his back harder than anyone. They butted heads constantly the first two days, but he seemed much more subdued this morning, if only with his outbursts and blustering. He still had a nasty sneer on his face, but got to work none the less.

“WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU THINK SHE WANTS US TO MAKE?” Papyrus queried, grabbing a bowl.

“MAYBE SHE WOULD LIKE US TO MAKE SCRAMBLED EGGS?”

“HOW ABOUT OVER EASY? CAPTAIN, WHAT ARE YOU MAKING?”

“I AM MAKING AN OMELETTE.” The Skeleton replied, cracking two eggs at a time into a bowl. The group tried not to shove each pother, some at the stove, others on the grill. The sound of a booming laugh startled them from their concentration. A new human walked into the closed diner with The Chef. Dark skinned and well dressed, smile bright and carefree, Blue and Papyrus looking through the window in surprise as they watched The Chef's usual scowl lessen just a tad, the pinch in her brow less severe. A tiny human on her hip.

“You really need to visit more, Levi has yet to actually meet you, and you see how much Lexi missed you. Noriko has gotten much better in the kitchen, too!” The man laughed, gesturing to how tightly the tiny human clung The Chef, arms wound around her neck, smiling brightly.

“You know I ain't one for house calls, Gene. Plus, I haven't forgotten Noriko's penchant for dressing me up in maid outfits and shit.”

“Shit!” Tiny human crowed, Gene scolding her while The Chef barked a laugh, praising her.

“Atta, girl. Tell him to fu-” Her mouth was covered in a second.

“ _Don't you dare!_ Ko would kill me!” The Chef's shoulders bounced, jostling the child into laughter as well.

“SHE LOOKS SO.... HAPPY?” Blue commented as quietly as he could, wonder evident in his voice. A far cry from her harsh treatment and clipped tones as of late.

“So, you need to meet Grey. He's my newest stray.”

“You mean, the uh... big Monster?” Gene rubbed his neck. “I don't know how Lexi will take that. We don't have a lot of Monsters in Metropolis yet.”

“She'll be fine. Grey! Come here!” The Hound lumbered past the kitchen, he had been handling the bulk of the prep work while the skeletons were around. Stooping low under the door frame, he slowly crept forward towards the gathering of humans.

“My Lady?” His deep voice boomed. The child's head turned to the low sound, eyes widening.

“Crotch Goblin, meet Grey.” The Chef peeled Lexi from her neck. “Grey, meet the brat, this is Gene. My oldest friend.” Alexandera passed the child into Grey grasp, who held on awkwardly. Lexi looked up at Grey, mouth agape, before screaming shrilly.

“PUPPY!” Fur was grasped tightly in her tiny fists, as she pulled the beast closer. The Chef snorted.

“Good luck, Grey. Gene, follow me.” She passed the squealing toddler and stunned Monster to the kitchen. The Skeletons went back to work, trying to look busy, which in all honesty, they were.

“Grunts, meet Gene. We went to culinary school together. He works at a world famous Italian restaurant for the richest fucker I know. Gene, my grunts.” The man gave a friendly wave.

“Hello everyone! I hope Alexandera hasn't been too harsh.” He nudged her shoulder with his in a familiar way. “She hates sharing a kitchen.” The Chef rolled her eyes.

“Gene's gonna teach a few of you some dishes, _only_ if I deem you ready.” Alexandera looked at their progress. “Captain.”

“YES, CHEF.”

“Why the fuck are you here?” She stepped closer to look at his omelet. It looked perfect. She hadn't missed the fact that he didn't seem to struggle at all the past three days.

“I NEED STIMULATION. IT IS... DULL, HERE ON THE SURFACE.” He plated the omelet, wiping the plate to rid a small spot of butter. The Chef grabbed a fork, and took a bite.

_This sly, mother fucker._

“You already know how to cook.”

“YES, CHEF.” Captain looked positively smug, The Chef took another bite before sliding the plate over to Gene. Alexandera eyed Captain, thinking.

“How free is your schedule?”

“AS LONG AS I HAVE PRIOR NOTICE, I'M FREE.”

“Good. I'm hiring you on for catering.”

“WHY DOES HE GE-” Black started, but a swift look from The Chef shut him up.

“ _He_ isn't absolutely useless, polite, and follows orders without bitching.” The Chef turned back to the skeleton. “You up for it?”

“HOW OFTEN DO YOU GET CATERING ORDERS?”

“Not often, but when the come, they're big. Especially because I'm openly Monster friendly, and have a Monster on my payroll.”

“I WILL THINK ON IT.”

“You do that. You four, show me what you got.”

.

.

.

The next several days were learning how to follow a recipe. Any deviations were met with derision and harsh words. The Chef's recipes were taped on every available surface, Gene came in to teach those interested how to _properly_ make pasta, flour coating the counters, tomatoes quickly blanched then shocked to ease the peeling. The Chef teaching them what spices work with each other. Everything was fast paced, quick, blunt. They slowly made their way to the grill itself, where The Chef was silent. Expecting them to learn the flow by experience. Only barks of _'Hot!', 'Behind!', 'Knife!', 'Wash hands, change gloves!'_. It was dizzying to watch The Chef, Gene, and Marcus work in tandem with each other, their speed and efficiency evident. They hardly spoke, but every plate was assembled quickly, and passed to the window in a short time.

Some of the Skeletons were starting to doubt themselves. Friday afternoon, she dropped the bomb.

“YOU WHAT?!”

“I'm throwing a party. Tomorrow. Order comes in at four A.M.. You'll be here by three thirty to clean, take care of the order, clean, prep, and then run the diner until 5 P.M. That's when everyone's showing up...” The Chef held her phone out, scrolling past a _long_ list. “These are the confirmed party guests. The rest are maybes. You'll be making the menu, making the food, serving it. The whole fucking shebang.”

She was evil.

“BUT... BUT WE'RE NOT READY!” Blue cried, his apron stained with beef grease. “AND IT'S SUCH SHORT NOTICE!”

“WHAT ABOUT YOU? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO BE DOING?” Edge asked, frustrated at the sudden change of plans. The human was already on his short list since this whole thing started. He _hated_ how much she chastised them....

Even if she was right, sometimes.

“It's my fucking party. I'm gonna live it up. I'll leave closing to you. Have fun.” She tossed the keys to Captain, and left them alone.

.

.

.

“That was cruel, Alexandera.” Gene laughed, pulling out his car keys.

“This is their final test. If they can handle this, they can handle anything.”

“Weren't you suppose to just teach them how to cook?” The Chef shrugged her shoulders.

“Better they're in my kitchen then out there.”

“You... You're keeping them locked in your kitchen to.. _protect_ them?”

“Maybe. They pass tomorrow, they now have a more realistic way to get work, in the future.” Gene shook his head, getting in his car, and rolling the window down.

“See you tomorrow. Good luck.”

“Bye, Afro-Samurai.”

“Later, Space Cowboy.” Gene sped off, eager to see his wife. Grey followed after The Chef.

“You care about them.”

“Yep. They're in my turf. They're part of the fucked up family.”

“You already have coats for them.” Alexandera looked up at Grey, surprised. “I saw them while doing laundry.”

“I told you to stay outta my room.”

“You should wear the dresses more often.”

“I swear to the fucking gods, Grey. Stay out of my _room!”_

.

.

.

.

_tomorrows a big day. Sorry this wasn't great, but I needed the set up._


	7. Party on

When they arrived at the diner, they awkwardly stood in the kitchen, looking to each other. The recipes that had been taped to the walls were gone. They didn't have to clean this morning, staying late the night before to get this cleaned up.

“WHAT DO WE DO?” Papyrus asked, hands covered in soap.

“I SUPPOSE WE SET A MENU FOR TODAY.” Blue replied, tugging on disposable gloves.

“WE SHOULD THAT AFTER THE DELIVERY ARRIVES. I'LL TAKE CARE OF THAT.” Edge called from further in the kitchen, inspecting that the knives didn't need to be sharpened.

“I SAY WE HAVE TO SEPERATE MENUS. ONE FOR THE THE MORNING, ONE FOR THE PARTY.” Black leaned against the wall, hand to his jaw. “SOMETHING EASY TO PREP AND COOK, THAT WAY WE HAVE MORE TIME TO FOCUS ON THE PARTY FOOD. BLUEBERRY, YOU SHOULD BE UP FRONT.”

“WHY? I WANT TO BE ON GRILL!” Blue huffed, annoyed at Black's tone.

“YOU'RE THE NICEST OUT OF ALL OF US, AND YOUR SMALL STATURE WILL HINDER YOU ON THE GRILL. WE CAN'T BE SEEN USING MAGIC. EVEN HERE.” Black stated.

“WHAT ABOUT YOU THEN? ARE YOU DOING GRILL?”

“NO. ADMITTEDL I, TOO, AM NOT BEST SUITED TODAY. EDGE SHOULD BE PREP, HE'S THE FASTEST THERE, CREAMPUFF, YOU TAKE GRILL.” Black sneered, as if his thoughts were sour on his tounge. “I'LL TAKE DISH PIT TODAY, THAT IS UNLESS SOMEONE NEEDS HELP.”

“THAT IS SURPRISINGLY... KIND OF YOU, BLACK! I'M PROUD OF YOU!” Papyrus smile shone brightly.

“BAH! I DON'T WANT THAT _HUMAN_ TO THINK US INCOMPETENT, DON'T START THINKING THAT I AM NICE!” A heavy pounding on the backdoor alerted them of the delivery.

The day was only just beginning.

.

.

.

It felt weird, sleeping in. It left The Chef groggy and a little disoriented, not used to the sun being up before her. The coffee in her hand just coffee, not her usual mix of liquor with a splash of caffeine. She had driven as far as she could into the Monster suburb, before ditching her car to walk the rest of the way.

“I could carry you, My Lady.” Grey mumbled when he noticed the sluggish pace The Chef walked.

“No. I'm fine. Gonna need something stronger than this, though.” The Chef gestured to her thermos. “How far?”

“Not long.” The uphill walk didn't do anything to wake Alexandera, wincing when the clouds parted to unleash the sun. By the time they reached the path way to the skeleton house, The Chef had finished her coffee, and was nursing her flask. She knocked on the door, using Grey to block more of the light, waiting for someone to answer the door. When it opened, it revealed Mutt. He stared at her, holding a bottle of barbecue sauce in his hands.

“Need to speak to Red.” The Chef stated, waiting for Mutt to let her in. He stepped aside, letting The Chef and Grey in.

“he ain't up yet.” Mutt sounded as tired as The Chef felt.

“Tough shit, I need a favor from him.” This caught Mutt's attention, his head cocked to the side.

“i'll get 'im.” He shuffled away, disappearing from view as The Chef wandered into the kitchen, relieved to see that it was clean of sauce and burn marks.

“THEY HAVEN'T TOUCHED ANYTHING IN HERE, SINCE YOU'VE BEGUN TEACHING THEM.” Alexandera hadn't seen Captain seated in the furthest seat of the dining room, a steaming mug at his side, newspaper in hand.

“Why aren't you at the diner?” The Chef asked, helping herself to the coffee sitting in a carafe on the table, taking a seat opposite of him, Grey taking his usual spot standing behind her.

“YOU SAID IT YOURSELF, I ALREADY KNOW HOW TO COOK.” Captain turned the page of his newspaper, eye lights flickering across the page.

“Fair enough. Who has the keys?”

“PAPYRUS.” the skeleton replied, briefly looking up. “I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT YOUR OFFER, WE WILL NEED TO DISCUSS PAYMENT.”

“Sure. Stop by on a Wednesday.” The Chef could hear heavy steps behind her, turning slightly in her seat to see Mutt and and a _very_ tired looking Red. Red's jacket was missing, leaving him in a black tank top, dark yellow crust spotting the dark fabric, the collar on his neck askew, the tags resting to the side. When he saw The Chef sitting at the table, he brightened slightly, grin wider.

“heya, kitten.” His voice was gravelly, sounding just as half awake as he looked. “missed me?”

“With every bullet so far. How sneaky can you be, I need some help.”

“depends on wha' it is, an' what i'll get outta it.” Red slipped into the kitchen, rummaging in the fridge.

“I need you to lightly sabotage the boys at the diner.” All movement had ceased. Even Captain looked up from his paper, looking The Chef over.

“whaddaya mean, sabotage?” Red turned back to face her, bottle of mustard in hand.

“This is their last test. If they can handle Murphy's Law, then they pass.”

“murphy's law?” Mutt was seated on the floor, back leaning against the wall.

“Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.” Alexandera explained, sipping from her thermos. The coffee stronger than the stuff she had at home. “Things don't always go according to plan, and I need to know that they can handle it when shit goes sideways.” Captain folded the newspaper, setting it down on the table, picking up his mug.

“AND WHAT WOULD THIS SABOTAGE ENTAIL?”

“Nothing too bad. Food falls on the floor. Oven or grill was set too high. Minor inconveniences, but with how busy it's going to be, it will test their patience and adaptability.”

“you wan' me ta fuck wit' my bro?” Red squeezed the mustard straight into his mouth. The Chef nodded.

“Him and the others. I have no doubt they will be fine, I just need to know how they will handle a high stress environment, I told them I wouldn't coddle them, but admittedly, I've held them back just a bit, just to make sure they had the basics down.”

“mi'lord want like it, when he find out...” Mutt stared unwavering to The Chef, twisting the cap to his own bottle. He didn't sound too worried.

“If they find out, I'll take full responsibility. It's my idea anyway.” The Chef downed the rest of the coffee, ignoring the burn. “You in?”

“not gonna lie, does sound fun. been boring here, but ya still ain' told me what I get outta it.”

“Name your price.” Red thought for a moment, his grin turning smug.

“i wan' some pictures from ya.” Captain scoffed loudly.

“ONLY YOU WOULD TAKE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO BE CRASS.”

“hey, ii neva said they had ta be _risque_ , just want some pics.” Red shrugged his shoulders, the tags on his collar jingling lightly. “yer the one who's brain went ta nudes.”

“WITH YOU, IT'S THE IMPLICATION.” Black rolled his eyes.

“What kind of pictures do you want?” The Chef asked, leaning back in her chair.

“well now that cap put the idea in my head, a nude pic wouldn' hurt.”

“Okay.” Red's eye lights blew wide, red filling his sockets.

“wai- wha?”

“I'll send you a nude. Just one.” The Chef pulled out her phone. “I'll send it now, if you agree.”

“fuckin' deal, babe!” Red looked giddy, patting himself down for his own phone. The Chef unlocked her own phone, searching for something to send. She sent the photo, holding her flask up to hide her smirk, as Red hurriedly checked his messages. His eager grin fell flat.

“the fucks this?”

“You said a picture _from_ me, a _nude_ photo. Didn't say it had to be _of_ me.” Red held his phone out to show a screen covered in a shade of light brown. Nude, to be precise, if googles search was right. Captain gave a quick sharp laugh, Mutt's shoulders shaking. Even Grey gave a huff of amusement.

“yer mean, kitten. bringin' a monsters hopes up like tha'.” Red sighed, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “yer gonna make me dust.”

“You'll live. Deals been made. Be there by four.”

“I WILL NEED TO BE CAREFUL IN OUR NEGOTIATIONS.” Captain's eye flared, the carafe floating to his side of the table, tipping to fill his mug with more coffee.

“wha' 'bout me?” Mutt said, pushing himself up to stand.

“What about you? I didn't technically ask you.”

“twos better than one.” Mutt cocked his head. “red is good, but 'm better.” He said it so matter of factly, Red gave an indignant sound.

“What do you want?”

“wan' ya ta show ya soul ta us.”

Grey immediately started growling, Captain spilling his coffee from the jolt he gave. Red shouted.

“tha fuck, mutt?!”

“THAT IS HIGHLY INAPPROPIATE!” The Chef's brow raised, meeting Mutt's unblinking stare.

“Why?”

“wanna know _exactly whey_ ' kinda person ya are.”

“My Lady, don't. Seeing a soul, when not in an encounter, is very private, it's incredibly intimate to Monsters.”

“Grey, I'm not a Monster.” The Chef didn't look away from Mutt. “How would seeing my soul tell you what kind of person I am?”

“human souls got colours, tha' can tell ya a lot. pullin' it out can tell us a bit more.” Mutt scratched lazily at his cheekbone. “monsters got this intuition, seein' a soul. hard ta explain.”

“You said us.” Mutt nodded.

“everyone in th' house.”

“kitten, don' worry 'bout it.” Red stepped closer to The Chef, glaring at Mutt. “i can handle it on my own.” The Chef's mind raced a bit, thinking it over.

“You don't trust me.”

“don' care either way personally, so long as ya don' hurt mi'lord, but the others...”

“You mean Sans and Papy.”

“uhh, 'm pretty sure the creampuff likes ya, kitten.”

“Blue's brother? I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me, if the looks he gives me are to go off of.” Red wheezed a bit.

“ya mean stretch?” The Chef finally broke eye contact with Mutt, turning to Red.

“Blue calls him Papy.” Red's eye lights flickered to the side, looking away.

“'t's a thing blueberry does. trust me, his name's stretch.” The Chef narrowed her eyes, but let it be.

“So, showing my soul gonna be this big thing? Alright,” The Chef looked back to Mutt. “I'll do it, but you owe me another favor later.”

“deal.” The Chef had barely finished her sentence when Mutt agreed. She could hear the rush of air leave Grey, practically feeling his disappointment.

“I need to get going. One last thing.” The Chef stood up, Grey pushing the chair in after her. “If the boys at the diner have any friends, tell them to be at the diner by five. You all, too. Figured they'd appreciate having friends and family there when they... graduate?” Captain piped up.

“I WILL TAKE CARE OF THAT. ALLOW ME TO ESCORT YOU TO THE DOOR. RUS!” Another skeleton popped into existence next to Captain, hood covering his head, twisting his fingers.

“yes, sir?” The new skeleton asked, voice meek.

“PUT THIS AWAY.”

“yes, sir.”

“i'll see ya later, kitten.” Red gave a lazy wave.

“Not your kitten, Red.”

“not yet...”

.

.

.

“WOWIE, THEY'RE LINED UP OUTSIDE?” Papyrus couldn't remember a time when he was this busy, not even when he was first mascot on the surface. Blue couldn't keep the stars out of his eyes, bouncing on the heels of his feet.

“YES! THEY MUST REALLY LIKE OUR FOOD, AND ARE TELLING THEIR FRIENDS!”

“WE STILL NEED TO CLOSE UP FOR PREP WORK.” Edge was standing next to Papyrus, working on boxing the numerous to go orders, the phone ringing again. Blue rushed to answer it, carrying it as he wandered the lobby to clear plates, and simultaneously taking new orders for new patrons. “IF THIS KEEPS UP WE WON'T BE CLOSING AT ALL!”

“WE'LL JUST HAVE TO MANAGE!” Despite wearing the plastic apron, Black's shirt was drenched with soapy water and disinfectant. “EDGE, START PREPPING.”

“I STILL HAVE SIXTEEN TO-GO ORDERS!”

“I'LL TAKE OVER. THE HUMANS CAN'T SEE US USE MAGIC, BUT THEY CAN'T SEE THE DISH PIT.” Black stepped away, eye glowing as he threw off the apron, heading to the sink to wash his hands of the soap. Edge smirked.

“CLEVER. BLUEBERRY, ARE YOU FINE WITH STAYING OUT FRONT?” Blue rushed to the window.

“AS LONG AS I GET TO MAKE MY TACOS FOR THE PARTY, I'LL BE FINE!”

“GOOD. CREAMPUFF DO YOU NEED A BREAK?”

“I CAN DO THIS ALL DAY!”

“GOOD. WHAT DO EACH OF YOU NEED READY?”

.

.

.

When The Chef reached her apartment, she was met with a smartly dressed blonde holding a briefcase. The Chef swore she knew her from somewhere.

“Hello?” The woman smiled cordially, extending her hand. Doing the same for Grey, not faltering in the slightest at the massive wolf.

“Hello again, Miss Fox. I'm Eve Teschmacher , we met once before, in Metropolis.” That sparked a memory.

“Oh, you're Lex's assistant....” The Chef frowned slightly. “He's here isn't he.”

“Yes, Ma'am. He sends his regards and apologies that he couldn't see you sooner, but something popped up.” Eve gripped her suitcase in both hands. “He will, however, be attending your soiree this afternoon.”

“Is this because I stole Gene?”

“Mr. Luthor delights in your company. Your end of the favor is merely to dress up.” The Chef pulled out her key, unlocking the front door, and letting Eve in, secretly thankful Grey cleaned her messes regularly.

“It's a diner, not one of his dress code restaurants.” The Chef huffed. “Well, I guess we'll get to work.”

“Do you still have the wardrobe Mr. Luthor gifted you?” Eve set her suitcase down, opening it to reveal make-up palettes, shears, and a hair curler.

“Yeah it's in the back. Want a drink?” The Chef pointed to the shelf lined with bottle with her thumb, Eve declining with a shake of her head. “Alright. Grey, show her my room?”

“Yes, My Lady. Ms. Eve?” Eve seemed unfazed by the way Grey addressed Alexandera, smiling softly as she followed Grey.

Tonight was a scotch night.

.

.

.

Red and Mutt stood behind the diner, taking a small smoke break from their shenanigans. He hated to admit it, but Mutt _was_ much better at sneaking than him. Red was more of the idea guy. That didn't mean they didn't get their licks in. Red chuckled, hearing the familiar roar of his brother, knowing he found broken glass in the dish for his lasagna. Poetic.

“smells good.” Mutt commented, pulling another dog treat from his hoodie, lighting the end, purple smoke curling from the end. Mutt eyed the long line of humans at the end of the alley. These humans were bulkier, mean looking, missing teeth, crooked noses from breaks, tattoos. And of course...

The high LV and EXP.

“yeah. kitten sure whipped 'em into shape.” Red rolled her head back, looking at the smoke wafting in the breeze, coming from the smokestack on top of the diner. “why'dya do it?”

“just cause...” Mutt knew what he was referring to.

“bet she gotta red one.” Mutt hummed, listening to the yelling inside, watching the humans outside.

“...blue.”

“integrity? Why?”

“dunno, jus' a feeling.” Mutt handed off his smoking treat to Red who grabbed it. “wanna put some g on it?”

“ten g says she's determination.” Red closed his eyes thinking. “loosen the pipes, easy fix, messy as hell.” Mutt nodded, disappearing. Red inhaled his cigar. He didn't smoke them often, but tonight was a special occasion. At least, it felt like it.

“kitten would good in red...”

.

.

.

The Chef resisted the urge to rub her eyes, eyes watering from the liner and mascara. She answered the door as Grey and Eve spoke to each other, Grey entertaining the guest. Gene and Noriko stood there, dressed in nice, casual clothing. A stark contrast to The Chef's own cocktail dress, black and form fitting on her figure.

“Were... we supposed to dress up?” Gene looked to his wife, who was smiling widely.

“Lexie! You look beautiful! Wait, let me get my camera!” Noriko rummaged through her purse.

“Nope. No photos. Let's go, we're running late.” The Chef looked over her shoulder to Grey. “Ready?”

“Yes, My Lady. Ms. Eve, will you be accompanying us?” Grey outstretched his hand, helping The Secretary stand.

“I believe I will.” Eve smiled more openly with the Monster than she did with The Chef. Alexandera felt a hand grab her own, Noriko's eyes almost sparkling.

“Oh my god..”

“Don't start... yet.” The Chef warned, already knowing Noriko was planning on playing cupid. She had adored Grey the moment they met, especially after Grey had spent a whole evening with the mothers two children, diaper changes included. Any hesitance with the monster had disappeared after poop duty. The Chef locked her door, fingers itching for her flask. The walk was short, only a few blocks to her diner, but she could already see some familiar faces from Gotham milling about. By the time they reached the diner, she could barley move without stepping on toes. Human or Monster. She made to about one block away before a _very_ familiar voice shouted over the noise of the streets.

“MAMA CHEF!”

Heads turned, and she was accosted.

Her old Gotham patrons had shown up in force, the call to arms she had Deker put out beckoning them to Ebott. Her back was already getting sore form the rough slaps of greeting from her old patrons, a few hugging her. Many teased her about her “Glitzie” look, others asking when she'd be coming back. She caught a glimpse of Gene and Noriko when she hugged a particularly affectionate old patron. Noriko seemed a buzz, the social butterfly she was, Gene however looked amazed. He knew she had been successful in Gotham, but she never told him she had...such a following. Gene could feel a burning in his eyes, one he tried to push back when The Chef introduced him to scores of people, shaking hands with everyone. The haggard, grizzly looking men and women's faces turning from scowls and suspicion to open smiles when Alexandera said _'Hey, this is my old friend Gene and Noriko, they came all the way down from Metropolis.'_

Flasks and Styrofoam cups were passed her way, The Chef taking sips from what was offered, others telling her what she had missed, carefully filtering anything too condemning, especially after she mentioned Gene and Noriko that was not in the know. They may not be in Gotham, but Gotham had a way of watching from afar. It took a while to wade through the crowd, having to stop every two seconds to say his to another familiar face, Grey sticking close to her. She could hear music blaring from her diner's open door, laughter and conversations loud, the smells coming from the diner mouth watering.

Good. She didn't spend the past two weeks teaching them jack shit. By the front door was a small huddle. Gary, Marcus, Kyle, Deker, and Tazer were loitering, talking to each other, Tazer being the first to see her.

“Mama Chef! It's been too fucking long!” She accepted the hug easily, doing the same for Deker. “We been making sure shit doesn't go south.”

“Good. Hate for the party to be ruined. Your chairs in there, by the way.”

“Yeah I saw, I'm about to kick the fucker's ass in it right now.” The Chef laughed at that.

“Gene, meet Marcus, Gary, and Kyle, they are my official diner boys. I taught them most of what they know.” She squinted her eyes briefly at Marcus, and he picked up on what his Boss was silently requesting. Marcus extended his hand, offering it to Gene.

“She still can't bake anything expect for baklava.” Gene accepted it, laughing.

“I've heard you're the literal muffin man, here.” And with that, Marcus played his part as a distraction, carrying on conversations about different baking recipes, allowing The Chef to slip away, nodding to Noriko, who waved her hand.

Alexandera slipped through the crowd towards the alley behind her diner, the horde dense with smokers and stragglers, a few curious Ebott citizens milling about in the crowd. The alley was thankfully sparse of people, the few loiterers nodding their heads to her as they leaned against the wall, none going any further than the mouth of the walkway. The Chef passed, pulling her phone out, and shooting a text to Red. When she was next to her back door, she could smell cherries.

“fuckin' _stars_ , kitten.” The Chef looked up, Red and Mutt stood directly across from her, where they decidedly hadn't been a few seconds ago. “tha' dress 'll look prettier on my floor.” Red's eyes kept roaming over her up and down, taking in her exposed legs, shoulders, collar bone. This was the most skin he had seen exposed on her. Her hair loose and hanging down her back, curled and tousled, the side of her head freshly shaved, skin smooth. The Chef could see the cigar clutched in his teeth glow, the smoke wafting from it bright red.

“I'll give it to you after today. How'd it go?” She pulled her own pack of smokes from the purse she had been forced to carry.

“oh, they're mad, alright. but ev'rythin' we thrown at 'em, they handled well 'nough.” Red chuckled, strutting forward, smug grin on his face. “so, what's yer plans fer the _after party_?” The Chef huffed a laugh, lighting her cigarette.

“Nothing you'll enjoy, trust me. Have y'all tried any of the food yet?” Mutt shook his head.

“no, we're not officially here until 'nilla an' the rest show up.” Mutt's gaze flickered to the end of the alleyway, to the mass of humans. “interestin' group.”

“Old friends from back home. They heard I needed it busy, and came.”

“wha' caused 'em to heed tha' call...” Mutt's tone was leading, questioning. Even Red's head cocked to the side, curious. The Chef delayed her answer, taking a long drag from her smoke, before pulling out her flask, taking a sip, offering it to Red, who already had his hand outstretched.

“I didn't treat them differently.” She didn't elaborate, she didn't have to. Didn't owe them an explanation. Mutt's brow raised, as if silently asking for her to continue.

He'd be waiting a while.

“Did Captain invite their friends?” Red grunted.

“yeah, the whole house 'll be here, an' a few others. might get a few others comin' jus' by word of mouth.” The Chef nodded, tossing her smoke on the ground, crushing it under the heeled boot she wore.

“Go wait for them. Thanks for helping.” She pulled her keys out, turning to the backdoor to unlock it. She stopped, a thought in her head. “Hey, Red.”

“ya, kitten?”

“Don't get too jealous when Lex shows up.” Red's brow furrowed briefly, before his smug grin was back on his face.

“what did i say, th' last time,” his sharp teeth looked wicked, gold tooth glinting. “i like me a challenge.” He disappeared.

The Chef rolled her eyes, opening the backdoor, stepping in. It was louder than in the alley, the hoots and hollars of the diner patrons penetrating into the back of the kitchen. Nothing was louder than the group of skeletons, though. They were moving with a sense of purpose, blurs of colour sipping past. Black was directly across from her, but so caught up in his knife work, he didn't see her. A massive stack of chopped onions be his side, the scent making The Chef's eyes tingle, even after so many years in a kitchen. She walked further into the kitchen, peeking around the corner. Edge and Papyrus were on the grill, cranking out plate after plate, the ovens glowing slightly, trays of bubbling cheese roasting inside. The door to the lobby burst open, Blue carrying a large stack of plates taller than him in his hands, before they glowed a baby blue, floating off towards the dish pit once the swinging door settled. He was the first one to see her.

“CHEF!” Blue's face was covered in a fine misting of blue droplets, his grin wide. Papyrus and Edge's heads whipped around to look at her, She could hear the knife stop chopping, Black stopping his task having heard Blue's cry. “WOWZERS! YOU LOOK LIKE... LIKE A.. PRINCESS!” Blue's had stars in his eyes.

“Trust me, Blue, I'm the furthest thing from a princess.” She looked to where the plates had floated, they glowed as they hovered from soapy water, to rinse, to sanitize, to drying rack. “Edge, Papyrus, you good?” Edge scowled, voice shrill.

“THESE HUMANS SEEM TO BE BREEDING LIKE MOLDSMOLS. ONE LEAVES, TWO MORE ARRIVE. WE'VE BEEN NONSTOP SINCE WE OPENED, NOT INCLUDING THE TO GO ORDERS.” Edge turned back to his station, plating his food before it burned, Blue already heading out the door to serve it.

“EDGE AND I HAVE BEEN KEEPING UP THOUGH! THE HUMANS SEEM VERY HAPPY WITH OUR FOOD! BLUE AND I HAVE BEEN SWITCH OFF SINCE WE WERE SUPPOSE TO CLOSE AFTER LUNCH, TAKING TURNS ON THE GRILL.” Papyrus grabbed some bread from the other head shelf, he moved it from the bottom drawer, it was easier for him to reach. “WE DECIDED NOT TO CLOSE FOR PREP, YOUR HUMAN FRIENDS ARE TERRIBLY HUNGRY.” The Chef held back a grin.

“And you, Karen?” The Chef turned to face Black, cocking a brow when she saw a lavender glow eminating from his cheek bones. He was staring outright, the usual haughty grin and pinched brow lax. “Karen?” He shook his head slightly.

“I HAVE BEEN HANDLING PREP AND ASSEMBLY, WHILE ALSO WORKING ON MY OWN DISH.”

“Why haven't you been on grill?” Black huffed, arms moving to cross themselves but stopping short, Black remembering he was wearing gloves.

“MONSTERS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC PUBLICALLY. IF I WERE ON GRILL, I WOULD NEED TO USE IT TO REACH THE HIGH SHELVES.” He turned back to the counter, a lavender haze moving the onions into separate bowls, moving spices from the higher shelf to his own eye level. “I CAN AT LEAST UTILIZE MY FULL ABILITIES BACK HERE.”

“BLACK WAS THE ONE TO ORGANIZE US, HE'S ALSO HELP US WITH OUR OWN DISHES.” Papyrus called out. The caught her attention.

“How so?”

“THE TYRANT HAS BEEN LISTENING TO OUR INSTRUCTIONS, WE TELL HIM HOW TO MAKE OUR FOOD, HE DOES IT.” Alexandera didn't know the official term, but she called it shadow chef-ing. One tells the other what to do.

“I'm impressed, Karen, you actually know how to follow orders.” She purposefully digged, trying to get a reaction. His shoulders stiffened, but he just continued to dump spices into a ridiculously large amount of ground beef. “What about Blue?”

“I'VE BEEN HANDLING OUR GUESTS!” Blue rushed back into the kitchen, a stack of cups in either hand. “WHILE I'D LOVE TO BE ON THE GRILL, I'M BEST SUITED FOR SOCIALIZING, I'D HAVE TO USE MAGIC TOO, IF I WAS ON GRILL.”

“Any issues here in the kitchen?” They all hesitated, before Black replied.

“NOTHING THAT WE COULDN'T HANDLE, CHEF.” The Chef's phone buzzed in her hand. She checked it, Red telling her that the Monster's had arrived.

“What is the plan now?”

“WELL NOW THAT THE PARTY IS OFFICIALLY STARTING, WE THOUGHT ABOUT NOT TAKING ANYMORE ORDERS, AND SERVING EVERYTHING CATERING STYLE!” Blue pointed to the ovens. “WE HAVE PLENTY OF OUR SIGNATURE DISHES READY, AND BACK UPS IN CASE WE RUN OUT OF THE FIRST ROUND.”

“Self serve style?”

“YES, CHEF! WE ALREADY HAVE THE LASAGNA PORTIONED OUT, AND MY SPAGHETTI IS EASY TO SERVE.” Papyrus dropped a burger patty on the flat top.

“BLACK AND BLUE'S BURRITOS AND TACOS ARE WRAPPED IN FOIL, SO THERE'S NO CHANCE OF CROSS CONTAMINATION.” Edge taped a box closed, sliding it on the window.

“Okay. Finish up, then head to the lobby.” They all shouted _'YES, CHEF!'_ , and she left through the swinging door, cheers going up when her old guests saw her.

Just like old times.

.

.

.

Sans was overwhelmed, he knew Stretch was too. So many humans, so many with high LV and EXP. They laughed with each other, pushing and shoving, shoulder to shoulder. His fist clenched.

“This is where that weenie punk has been?” Undyne shouted, taking in all the people, Alphys holding onto her hand, pressed tightly to her side, nervously shaking at such a large crowd. “Wonder what ass this is about?” Sans felt a tug on his hoodie and looked over, Frisk clutching the fabric. While the kid didn't talk, their intent told more than words could.

“i dunno, kid. we should be okay... i think...” Frisk was worried for their Monster family.

“THE HUMAN SAID SHE AND THE REST ARE INSIDE.” Captain said, holding his phone. “GREY WILL BE LEADING US IN, THE CROWD IS THICK.”

“so is kitten.” Red sighed dreamily. Mutt next to him nodded slightly in agreement. Sans wasn't comfortable with all the skeletons out like this.

“DON'T BE CRASS.” Captain scolded, hands clasped behind his back. Rus, his brother, was hunched over, trying to make himself appear smaller, eye lights flickering back and forth quickly, nasty. Sans could see the crowd parting as the towering figure of Grey made a straight line towards the group. Undyne tensed as he got close.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Follow me, My Lady is waiting.” The horde of humans parted, most looking at the Monsters in open wonder. Like they had never seen a Monster before in Ebott. As they got closer to the diner, Sans could smell something mouth watering. Like he was walking to Grillby's after a long day of napping. The sounds of humans talking louder than the music pumping from the speakers in the diner. Inside was packed. Humans sitting in every available seat, standing in the lobby, leaning against walls. Plates of food in hand or in front of them. And at the center of it all, was that human.

The Chef.

She sat on the cashier counter, the humans Sans knew worked for her flanking her sides, two more with _stars blessedly_ no LV or EXP laughing with her. She held a bottle of amber liquid in his hand, lifting to drink from it. Sans could see his brother and Edge behind her in the window, happier than he could remember, flipping a burger high in the air with exaggeration, eye's bright.

“PAPY!” Sans looked to see Blue bum rush Stretch with a hug, Stretch sighing loudly in relief, hugging him back.

“bro, are you okay?” Stretch couldn't keep the worry from his tone.

“OF COURSE! A BUSY DAY IS NOTHING AGAINST THE MAGNIFICENT SA-BLUE! MWEH HEH HEH!” Blue stepped back, bouncing on the heels. “LOOK HOW MUCH EVERYONE IS ENJOYING OUR FOOD!”

“HEY PUNK!” Undyne crowed, catching sight of Papyrus, who brightened even more. “Get out here!”

“ONE MOMENT, UNDYNE! I HAVE TO FINISH!” Red wandered over to the blue hair human, grabbing the bottle from her hand while she wasn't looking. Sans couldn't hear what she said over the rest of the noise, but saw Red lean in as she talked into his “ear”, Red nodding, responding as he grabbed something she handed to him. Whatever he had said made The Chef roll her eyes, swatting at his shoulder. Red disappeared, porting away. Sans felt his grin dip, he's not suppose to do _that_ in front of humans. The Chef's eyes landed on him, and Sans felt his smile dip even further when she beckoned them close.

“Glad you made it.” She said loudly, when the Monster group was close enough to hear her. “Have you tried the food yet?”

“Who are _you?_ ” Undyne scowl matched The Chef's, arms crossed.

“I'm Alexandera, I've been teaching the grunts how to cook.”

“Oh! Y-you're the own-n-er. I-I remember you,” Alphys could barley be heard, quiet voice nearly swallowed by the roar of the crowd. “I l-l-l-ike your O-ouran post-t-ters.”

“You've been here before?” The Chef asked, but Undyne cut off Alphys's answer.

“What do you mean, teaching them to cook. _I_ already taught Papyrus everything he knows.”

“Then he'll have to teach you. He sucked, before.” Undyne growled, staring The Chef down, The Chef doing the same, not backing down. Undyne's whole demeanor changed, head thrown back in a booming laugh.

“BWAH HAH HAH HAH HAH! I like you, Punk. You got guts!” Sans noticed the crowd had hushed slightly when Undyne laughed, eyes wide on her, before they returned to their conversation. “So! When can those weenies come out here?”

“When they're done.” The Chef replied simply, and began to introduce the Monsters to the humans. Sans had zoned out, keeping an eye out for trouble, keeping an eye on his brother.

He really looked happy.

.

.

.

Stalling was easy. Every one was busy eating or talking. She made sure to keep the Monsters from eating quite yet, doing her best to socialize. The Chef wasn't one for parties, but, this wasn't her party...

After another fifteen minutes of “hosting”, her diner skeletons walked out of the swinging door, gathering in front of her. Mutt immediately went to Black's side, a silent shadow. Papyrus was accosted by Undyne, the fish woman rubbing her knuckles on Papyrus's skull roughly, the kid they had brought hugging his leg. Blue was flitting about the room, joking with the customers who had taken a shine to him, Papy, or was it Stretch, keeping his eyes on him. Edge's arms were crossed, scanning the crowd, eyes narrowing when he finally saw Red laughing it up with some humans. Red had come back from his last assignment she had given him. The bag he had grabbed from her apartment tucked behind her. Once Undyne had released Papyrus, who immediately went to hug his shorter brother, The Chef held her hand in the air. Waiting.

Moments went by, and one by one, the humans of the diner went silent, all eyes on her. Even the humans outside the diner quieted, looking inside from the door and windows. Black watched in wonder of her silent, commanding presence. When the hush had settled, The Chef took a swig from her whiskey.

“Welcome back, assholes.” Her old patrons laughed, they knew she meant it affectionately. “How's the food?” A cheer bellowed from inside and out, The Chef noting the smiles and Blue and Papyrus, the puffed chests of Edge and Black. They looked so proud.

“Good to know, I haven't had any yet. Grunts!” The diner skeletons perked up. “Grab some food for them.”

“YES, CHEF!” The scurried off, rushing to plate up their dishes, Alexandera noting how uncomfortable Sans and Stretch looked at their obedience. “It's about time you try their work.” Plates were pushed into hands, Red fumbling slightly at the force Edge had shoved the lasagna into his hands.

“I've spent almost two weeks teaching these goons how to cook. Today was their last test. No recipes for them to go off of, no time to breathe, dealing with you all.” The Chef projected into the crowd, ignoring the surprised looks from the diner skeletons. “They've had to deal with unexpected conditions, needed to adapt to changes, and up hold the quality of their food. So thanks for coming all this way. Now, you all, eat.” The Chef commanded, looking to the Monsters. Sans, Red, Mutt, and Stretch hesitated, while Undyne, Alphys, and the kid, Frisk, tucked in. The silence was palpable, waiting for their reaction....

Alphys was the first to react.

“Oh... Oh my _gosh!_ ” She squealed. “This is amazing! It's like I'm in Food Wars!” She took another bite from her plate, spaghetti sauce on the corner of her mouth. The kid gave a thumbs up, while Undyne shoveled food into her mouth. Sans slowly took a bite, eye sockets and light wide.

“bro....” Papyrus fidgeted, waiting. “this... this is better than grillby's.” This seemed to spur on the rest of the group, the brothers taking bites from their own respective plates.

“ _holy shit, boss!”_

“delicious as always, mi'lord.”

“better than muffet's, bro.”

They continued to eat, gushing the entire time, honesty blatant on their awestruck faces. Papyrus and Blue had tears leaking from the corners of their eyes, Black's hands on his hips as he soaked up the praise, Edge held his head high. Captain nibbled a bit from his own plate, nodding in approval, as his own brother scarfed down the plate. The Chef could see a few tears in the eyes of the crowd. They really had taken a shine to Blue. Alexandera hopped down from the counter, jerking her head at Gene.

“Our turn.” She and Gene walked to the table where their food was, each grabbing a fork. The skeletons watched in apprehension as both humans took bites from the food, chewing slowly, mulling over their thoughts.

“Could use more garlic.” Gene shoved Alexandera lightly.

“You always _think_ there needs to be more garlic!” Gene shook his head with a laugh. “These a great, guys! You did well.” The skeletons thanked Gene, as Alexandera took second bites from their food. No glitter, glass, char, or raw food. Seasoned well, noodles of the spaghetti just slightly al dente for a nice bite, lasagna held up, cheese perfectly browned on top with out being too crisp. The burrito's meat was spicy, but not enough to give her hiccups, the taco's topped with fresh salsa, brightening the whole dish. She spoke her thoughts aloud, not realizing, and with each thought, each observation slipping from her lips, the diner skeletons smiled wider, stood straighter.

Once The Chef had finished, she turned. Walking past the Monsters back to the counter.

“CHEF?” Blue spoke, looking to Alexandera.

“Can't call me that anymore.” The Chef rummaged in the bag, pulling out a stack of white cloth. “Hope these fit.” She tossed the cloth at each of the boys.

“WHAT ARE THESE?” Papyrus asked, unfolding the cloth.

“You'll recognize it, all my boys have one.” The crowd of humans cheered, knowing exactly what they were. They weren't just some Monsters anymore, they were officially one of her boys.

“THESE ARE...” Black seemed to be at a loss for words, for once, taking in the familiar logo of Hodge-Podge, the fox arched over the the bold H, the elegant P. Anything but Ordinary stark against the fabric.

“You have a job here, if you ever want it.” The Chef grabbed the bottle back in her hand, taking a swallow. “Congratulations.” Papyrus sobbed openly, hugging the coat to his chest. Blue gasped, holding the coat up towards Stretch.

“PAPY, LOOK! LOOK! IT SAYS HERO!” He was remarking on the embroidered title below his name. “I'M A HERO!” The others looked to the stitched name tags. Hero, Papaya, Edgelord, and...

“ _KING?_ ” Black gaped, looking from his coat to The Chef and back again.

“You're bossy, arrogant, and demanding.” Mutt's gaze narrowed as The Chef spoke. “But, I remember when you first came here, you were called 'Mi'Lord'. You took charge when the situation got dicey, assigned everyone to their best suited stations, followed instructions and listened to your peers when they needed you. All without being a Karen.” Black's face turned lavender at her words.

“O-OF COURSE! I AM THE BEST SUITED TO LEAD!”

“Don't get cocky, King.” His face was practically glowing when she called him King. “You all still got lots to learn, but I trust you can handle that on your own. Alright, enough of this Hallmark shit. Enjoy your party.”

“ _OUR_ PARTY?”

“Of course, I ain't one for this kinda shit. This is all for you.” Blue rushed her with a hug, Papyrus lifting the two with ease into his own hug.

“YOU ARE A MOST WONDERFUL FRIEND, MISS ALEXANDERA!” The Chef patted his back awkwardly.

“You're a great cook.”

.

.

.

Sans watched as more Monsters filtered into the diner, word had gotten out on the _Undernet_ about the party for the skeletons. Monsters and humans talked with each other, the rough looking humans easily socializing with the softest looking monster. Frisk was on Papyrus's shoulder, the tall skeleton wearing his chef's coat with pride, as they talked with the two humans that didn't have the high LV as the rest of the crowd, Undyne and Alphys there too, talking about anime. Black and Edge were soaking up the praise and compliments from the crowd, The Chef knocking down their pride a peg whenever they got too swollen of an ego, but the words lacked any real bite. Blue was bouncing from human to Monster, his usual friendly self, Stretch never too far away. Mutt and Red were next to him, cups filled with mixes of mustard, barbecue sauce, and whiskey, taking it all with him.

“'s it too late to change the bet?” Red laughed. Sans turned to the others.

“bet?” Annoyance flickered briefly in his eyes, before he sighed.

“kitten owes a favor ta mutt, we gotta bet goin'.”

“why do you owe her a favor?” Mutt was quiet, head cocked as he thought.

“she's gonna show us her SOUL.” Sans was too shocked to respond.

“yep, an' we are bettin' on what colour 't's gonna be.” Red took a sip of his brew. “thought it might be red, but now i'mma say green.”

“have to put more in the pot, for that.” Mutt grinned.

“why would you ask to see her SOUL?”

“come on, 'nilla. ya jumpy as hell 'round her, ya fuckin' attacked her, ev'rytime she gets close to ya bro, ya look like ya ready to blast 'er.”

“so?”

“so, she ain't goin' nowhere. look at 'em.” Red nodded his head to the crowd again. “she's got high LV, sure, but no EXP. she took in four idiots who didn' know their way 'round a kitchen, and taught 'em. Ii love my bro, but even i'll admit he's a handful. black's worse, no offense mutt.”

“none taken.”

“fact o' th' matter is, they like 'er and she likes 'em. ya ova reactin' 'bout 'er. mutt gettin' 'er to show us her SOUL 's ta prove it.”

“'nd make some g.”

“look around us! She doesn't have EXP, but her employees, her _friends_ that came all this way, some of them are way too high!”

“ya, an' mines high too, ya don' see me runnin' 'round, causin' trouble.” Sans gave Red the “look”, the fucking really look. “okay, so maybe i do some stupid shit 'ere an' there, but high LV don' mean ya crazy.”

“and their EXP?”

“self defense?” Red shrugged, throwing out the weak defense.

“that high?”

“shit, 'nilla, jus' look at 'em, really fuckin' look.” And Sans did. He saw too many humans, with too high stats. He saw them laughing and joking with Monsters with ease. He saw his brother and “cousins” in the midst of it all, happy and smiling. He saw the human woman, scowling, drink in hand, but a proud look in her eye, conversing with the group, Undyne loudly challenging a arm wrestling contest, the crowd egging it on. “well get a look at her SOUL and you c'n fuckin' relax fer once.”

“what did you do to get her to agree to that?” Sans couldn't keep his eyes off the two women, hands locked, muscles straining, Papyrus and Blue cheering them both on.

“she asked us to sabotage them a little, see how they could handle a bad situation.” Mutt yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “they handled it pretty well.” Sans didn't know how to feel about the trickery, watching as Undyne slammed the humans arm against the table.

“she already had them jackets ready.” Red burped after taking a swing from his cup. “she gave me her keys, sent me to go get 'em coats. snooped for a bit, found the receipts. had 'em ordered a week ago.”

“must've had confidence in her ability to teach them.” Sans trailed off, looking down at the plate before him, spaghetti long gone.

“or she had faith in them....” Mutt mumbled. More Monsters came in, Papyrus gasping loudly as a familiar metallic voice rang over the crowd.

“gonna head out back fer a smoke, try not to ta be anymore o' a buzzkill, eh 'nilla?” Red disappeared, Mutt following shortly after, leaving Sans by himself at the table. He sighed, pushing the plate away, and stood up. This party was to celebrate his bro's graduation.

Parties were meant to be enjoyed.

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.

_I hadn't realized how long this chapter had gotten, so sorry if this chapter seems to end abruptly.... I was legit about to write like another 8 pages worth and im at the end of 18 right now._

_Please share this story with your friends and stalk my on tumblr. I like interacting with you all._


	8. A Favor

It had been a long night. The party going on well into the night, past when the diner would usually close. The cops had shown up, too, just to make sure everything was okay. _That_ hadn't gone over well with some of her patrons, but she knew what to do. She had practice, after all. Noriko had spent the evening close by Gene, fawning over the kid that came with the Monsters, wiping sauce from their cheeks, her motherly instincts strong. Grey spent his time conversing with the well dressed Secretary, breaking from his usual position at The Chef's back in favor of the woman. Gene promised the skeletons that he'd send them a few cookbooks on baking from his personal collection, saying they needed to be well rounded if they really wanted to continue down the path of a cook. The Chef backed her oldest friend's statement. She technically _could_ cook the lofty, high society, one hundred dollars for a single bite kind of food, but she hated the pretension behind it. She was a diner chef, a line cook, and that's what she had taught the skeletons. Secretly, she knew Gene just wanted someone else to gush about baking with, something The Chef was not strong in. Lex had shown up, fashionably late, and that brought a whole new bag of worms with it, because _of course_ the paparazzi would find out. It wasn't too bad though, some pink robot had all but stolen the spotlight. The rest of the night was spent telling old stories, drinking, and dealing with Red and Lex competing for her attention. Red had greeted the well dressed man who exuded confidence and suave charm from his very pores with guarded friendliness. Any tension that could have existed vanished when Lex complimented The Chef effusively, to which she of course snarked back against, even if her ears were suspiciously warm. _Somehow_ , that turned into a competition, Lex's smooth, eloquent flirtations against Red's more blunt innuendos. What mattered the most was the diner skeletons had fun, to which it seemed they did. Heads held high in pride, smiles wide.

What mattered second most was the message she was broadcasting, as the skeletons took photos with the grizzled humans, their chef's coats bright against the dark colours of the Gothamites. The logo to her restaurant easily seen. Her phone buzzed nonstop, notifications for Hodge-Podges twitter account never ending, as photo after photo was uploaded.

They were a part of her Boys now. You messed with them, you messed with The Chef's “army”.

You messed with The Chef.

By the time the party had ended, and all the guests had left, and the diner was clean, and the doors locked, The Chef was exhausted, sore, and more than a little tipsy. Grey keeping a hand on her shoulder to steady her slight swaying, her heeled boots in his hands.

“MISS ALEXANDERA?”

“Yeah, Papyrus?” Papyrus sounded just a tad quieter, looking only the slightest bit tired.

“COULD WE HAVE A PHOTO WITH YOU?” The Chef blinked, taking in the skeleton crew before her.

“Sure thing.”

Her phone buzzed one last time as the last photo was uploaded to twitter.

One of her standing in her black dress, wet with spilled whiskey, between four white clad skeletons, her diners emblem proudly displayed on their chests.

Even she was smiling.

.

.

.

The Chef was back at her diner bright and early, a few Gotham stragglers staying a few extra days giving her business a boost. It wasn't hard to tell Ebott citizens apart from the Gothamites, Ebott citizens wore brighter colours, didn't layer their clothes for an unexpected freezing rainstorm, Gothamites deck in dark coats, long sleeves, most telling was a more guarded expression. Her diner Boys, the human ones, couldn't stay in the kitchen long enough, filtering out one by one to talk with old friends. The goons didn't mind if their food was a little delayed, The Chef's food was worth it. She almost expected her back door to slam open, her more dangerous friends stopping by for her mid day break. Only the clean streets and shining sun reminded her that this wasn't Gotham anymore. Well that and...

“HELLO, MISS ALEXANDERA!” Greetings went up from her patrons, Blue and Papyrus greeting the humans in turn, Blue even greeted more than a few by name.

“Morning, boys. You done with your run?” The Chef called from behind the kitchen window, placing a bowl on the ledge. Mouse always got last bowl of soup.

“YES! WE NEED TO MAKE UP FOR LOST TIME!” Blue stretched his back, twisting from side to side. “WITH HOW BUSY IT WAS YESTERDAY, THAT MADE FOR A GOOD WARM UP.” The Chef snorted, shaking her head slightly.

“I'll bet. Y'all want your usual?”

“ACTUALLY, WE HAVE A FEW ERRANDS TO TAKE CARE OF.” Papyrus's smile was wide, the tall ray of sunshine he was. “WE CAME BY TO ASK IF YOU'D LIKE TO COME VISIT THIS EVENING?”

“It's Saturday, I might not get off til late.” Blue's shoulders dipped a bit.

“OH, RIGHT! WELL, HOW ABOUT SUNDAY EVENING? IT'S NOT TOO BUSY ON A SUNDAY.”

“That's true, sure. Why, though?” The two skeletons looked to each other.

“OH... UM... WE JUST WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU!”

“YES! JUST FRIENDS HAVING A GOOD TIME TOGETHER, NO UNDERLYING REASON!”

“I need to teach you to lie.” The Chef muttered under her breath, amused. “Alright, I'll see you Sunday.”

.

.

.

Deker and Tazer stayed late into night, the last to leave. The Chef was certain there was another reason they had stayed, but she didn't ask. Plausible deniability was the creed of her life. She wasn't apart of that life anymore, she had left it behind, for the most part.

But Gotham had a way of dragging you back in...

“Mama Chef, we gotta talk.” Tazer looked to Grey, brows knitted tight in thought.

“He knows.” Both men looked at her. “I told him everything. I trust him.”

High praise that was.

“Got a message from the Gallery.” Tazer pulled a small package from his bulky winter jacket, so out of place in the sunny city. “Quinn said you'll know what to do, and you owe her a recipe.” The Chef scoffed, crooked grin on her lips as she took the light parcel from him.

“Thanks. How much trouble could I get in with this?” The men shrugged.

“You know we don't ask questions.” Guilt weighed Deker's lips down. “Mama Chef, you look like your doin' good out here, I'm sorry.”

“Don't tell me you're worried about me.” Alexandera handed the package off to Grey, who shoved the slim box into his chef's coat. “I'll be fine.”

“We know.” Tazer replied. “You got any heat on you, just in case?” The Chef pointed to Grey, causing the mens heavy demeanor to break, chuckles emitting from their throats.

“Well visit again someday, Mama Chef.”

“You better, now get out so I can lock up.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

She hugged each man before they left.

.

.

.

“What's in the box?” Grey's low gravel sounded by Alexandera's ear. The walk home was silent, The Hound noting how The Chef's eyes swiveled back and forth, looking for trouble. She'd never been so high on alert before.

“It's a flash drive.” She held the small rectangle between her fingers, muttering as she took a swig from her mug, which was mostly scotch with a splash of coffee. “It's from Puzzles.”

“How can you tell?”

“It's green.” Grey cocked his head to the side, slowly lumbering to his preferred seat on the too small couch. “He has a green fetish.” Grey watched as she pulled her laptop from under the stained coffee table, booting it up and sliding the flash drive into the side port. He watched as his Mistress worked her magic on the fragile machine with no small amount of envy. Humans only had just started to make their technology Large Monster friendly. The Chef clicked a few times, before a small window appeared on the screen, a video. She pressed play.

“ _Hello Miss Fox, I hope those goons followed my simple instructions, but you know that goons aren't the most intelligent..”_ A green screen overtook the laptop, a single black question mark the focal point. _“It has been exceedingly quiet wit- JERVIS! No!”_

“ _Are you talking to Alice? Oh, Alice, are you trapped in here! Don't worry, I shall raise the alarm, the Cards may assist!”_

“ _Jonathan, do something! My equipment is delicate!”_ There was an audible scuffle, nothing could be seen, but the grunts and shouts of “Alice!” got quieter. A new voice came over the speakers.

“ _Now that's been taken care of, Miss Fox.”_ The voice was smooth and lulling. _“There is something we would like taken care of. A mutual.... friend is about to be released from Arkham, having completed his court mandated 'rehabilitation'.”_ Grey could hear the drip of disdain at that last word. _“However, he has a history of falling back into old ways. We have something big planned, and he would be a detriment to our plan. We are aware of your legal position as a Monster Sanctuary. **Hey Bitch, think ya could spare a room? I've been called a monster!**_ ” The voice changed drastically, more coarse and raspy. The speakers picked up the wooshing of a long sigh.

“ _In any case, I have faith you'll figure out something. He needs to be out of the way, but he's outright stated that if 'screw him over', he'll_ talk. _We can't have that. Attached is some information that should help. And he has promised to be on his best behavio- **I'll be a bad boy fer ya, promise.”**_ Another sigh, and for a few moments it was quiet.

“ _Jonathon needed to step away, Scarecrow has been exceedingly forward recently. It's hard to focus when he's floating around, messing with my equipment.... YES, I know it's you! We've known each other for years! In any case, once you have everything ready on your end, you know how to contact us. We'll send him over with haste... Miss Fox, I have no doubt you understand how delicate this situation is.... Be careful....”_ The video ended, the video player closing on it's own, before a new screen popped up on it's own, The Chef not touching the laptop as she read the screen. Grey looked to his Mistress, taking in her tense shoulders, as she read the screen, taking note of how wide her eyes got.

“Shit....”

“Your friends, My Lady?”

“Yeah.... Fuck!” The Chef tossed herself back onto the couch, back swallowed in between the cushions. “Grey... This could be bad.”

“How bad?” She didn't respond for a long time, eyes closed and a hand clasped in her hair.

“Grey... We need to see the Royal Family....” The Hound tensed.

“May I ask why?”

“I need to... speak to the King and Queen...” The Chef opened her eyes and looked around. “We'll need to move, too. This place isn't big enough.”

.

.

.

The Chef had closed the shop for the day. There was just too much to do today. Between whatever Papyrus and Blue had planned, and now the new development....

This was supposed to be a boring city.

Monsters greeted her more often now, recognizing her from the diner, the Undernet posts, or just by the fact she came to the Monster Suburb more often than other humans. Grey was by her side, umbrella in hand to keep the sun off her. She appreciated it, running the diner meant being up before the sun, and locking up shop by the time the suns deadly rays were just a touch less aggressive.

Damn Gotham and it's rainy skies, she could swear she was slowly turning into a vampire.

A vampire that only got blood from medium rare burgers and steaks.

A vampire who drank alcohol to survive.

Grey lead her down a different route than what she was used to, not the path used to get to the Skeleton house. This was a proper suburb, houses in all shapes and sizes, painted in cheery colours, flowers and decorations littering lawns. Picket fences. Picture perfect. Too bad The Chef wasn't a photographer. They meandered down the sidewalk for sometime, before Grey halted, stopping before a very simple house, the fence lined with beautiful golden flowers, the scent of the flora relaxing and sweet.

“We're here.” This couldn't be it.

“Aren't royals supposed to live in palaces or some shit?” There was a tire swing hanging from the tree out front, a trampoline peaking from behind the house in the backyard. The house itself looked much like the rest on the street. A colourful wreathe hung on the front door.

“The King and Queen are very humble people.” Grey sounded off, The Chef knew he didn't want to be here, didn't approve of the idea of what she was about to do. “The Queen should be at the local school, she's a teacher. She loves children...”

Fuck.

Now The Chef was starting to feel just a touch guilty.

Not enough to stop her from her task, though.

She walked through the gate, of which there was no actual door, just an empty hinge, and knocked on the front door, Grey waiting by her side. The door opened.

“Howdy! I wasn't expecting guests... Grey?” A large Goat Monster, fur and muscle clad in a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt, greeted them, kindness in his eyes.

Kindness and surprise.

“Your Majesty.” The umbrella shifted as Grey stood a little straighter.

“It's good to see you, old friend. And may I ask your name, Miss?”

“Alexandera Fox. We need to talk.” The King nodded, a quizzical look in his eyes, but graciously allowing them inside.

“Would you like some tea?” The Chef stood in the living room, nodding. The King left them alone, and The Chef took in the walls. Photos covered the walls, some of the Underground if the stone in the background was to go off of, others of the surface, clouds and stars above the focal points heads. One caught her eye, a panoramic, _hundreds_ of Monsters huddled together, a single human at the front, held in the arms of The Queen, smiles on those who had mouths, fir trees in the background.

“That was when all of us made it to the surface, every Monster who made it to that day.” Grey murmured, fondness in his tone.

“Where are you?” Grey pointed off to the far right side, a single glowing golden eye peaking through trees.

“I'm not fond of photos.” The Chef turned to look at her companion.

“You get pictured all the time when we have catering orders.”

“You like photos even less. I allow it, because it detracts from you.” The Chef was touched, he took the heat for her. She didn't say it out loud, just giving him a very small appreciative grin. She turned back to the photo, taking it in more. The Queen and King front and center, even if they stood further apart than the rest of the Monsters, the fairly familiar child held in her arms, cheeks smudged with dirt and grime, the recognizable faces of Undyne and her wife Alphys, recognizable if only because she had spent some time with them last night. Papyrus and Sans next to the couple, her protege in a ridiculous outfit, two halves of a basketball on either of his shoulders, his signature scarf around his neck, the shorter skeleton had his hands shoved in his hoodie. The more she looked, the more the photo didn't look... complete.

“Grey, do you see Blue?” Grey leaned in more, both taking in the picture. “Or Red?”

“No, My Lady.”

“This was every Monster, right?” Grey hesitated a moment.

“I thought it was...”

“That one is my second favorite.” Alexandera turned, The King held a tray in his hands, the spout of the teapot steaming. “It was my child's idea, to take the photo.”

“It's a good photo.” The Chef replied, taking one last look at it, before taking a seat on the massive couch, opposite of The King in his own recliner, a matching one next to it.

“I hope you like golden flower tea, it's a favorite here in the house, you saw them in the front yard. Are you having a good day?” He was friendly, fatherly tone making the small twinge of guilt in The Chef's gut twist. Not enough to deter her. She accepted the teacup, Grey doing the same, and took a sip.

Fuck. This was good tea.

“King Asgore.”

“Please, do not feel the need to address me by my title. We're all friends here, especially as the Sanc to our most trusted Guard.” Asgore spared a look to Grey.

“Sir, this isn't a social visit.” The Chef placed the teacup on the glass top of the coffee table before her. “You owe me a favor.”

“I beg your pardon?” The King looked downright confused, eyes wide. “I don;t remember meeting you before today, Miss Fox.”

“You haven't, to my knowledge...” She looked up at Grey.

“He came to the diner once.” The King gave a noise of recognition.

“Oh yes! Our very own Captain of the guard and Royal Scientist had just returned from their honeymoon. Your food was delicious!” Fuck, this friendly motherfucker wasn't helping ease the twinge in her gut.

“Thanks. Look, let's get down to brass tacks.”

“I suppose we should... Though you have me at a great disadvantage. How do I owe you a favor?”

“I know about the SOULS.”

The teacup falling to the ground, saved from shattering by plush carpet was the only sound.

“I... I'm sorry?”

“You kept the SOULs of a bunch of humans, trying to get to the surface. I don't blame you. You had the whole Underground's freedom resting on your shoulders, and you had to make the hard choices as King. A heavy weight to bare. I'm not judging you for that.” The King looked stricken.

“How... Grey?” The King's voice was laden with betrayal.

“I owe her my life.” Grey didn't elaborate any further.

“I would've taken this shit to my grave, you'd've never've known that I know, but I got my own burdens to carry. And you will help.” The King reached down to pick up the fallen teacup, paws shaking.

“What... what do you want? Money?”

“Pfft. No, got plenty of that, actually. No, I need you to make someone as a Monster.” The Chef took another sip of the outstandingly delicious tea, she almost wished Jervis was here to try it. He would like it. “I need him to be a Monster, so I can Sanc him. My life's on the line, and all that shit.”

“I can;t _make_ someone a Monster, that magic is impossible.”

“Good thing he already looks the part.” The Chef pulled her phone out from her pocket, and pulled a photo up. “All you gotta do is make a royal decree or something, and then we should be good.” The King inspected the photo.

“I don;t recognize him.”

“That's probably because he's not really a Monster, he just looks like one. I owe my own favors.”

“You said your own life is on the line.”

“I doubt I'll _die_ , but I don't really want to deal with the fall out.” The screen on the phone went black, timing out and locking on it's own. “Look, I'm not a good person, but for my friends, I'll go quite a ways. I'm sorry I had to drag you into this, but you know better than anyone, people like us have to do some fucked up shit to get things done.”

“People like us?”

“The ones in charge.” The Chef ran a hand through her hair. “My... _friends_ may not see it that way, but I hold more cards than they realize. They could kill me, but I know they won't. I'm the only normal person that will deal with them. And yeah, they're dangerous, but... they've been good to me. I owe them. They saved my life.” The King looked her over, silent in thought.

“How did they save your life?”

“The less that's said, the better. Like I said I'm sorry for dragging you into this, but you'll need the plausible deniability.”

“Who is this person? Will this set back Monsters? We have a large amount of rights and freedoms, but I feel this man may cause trouble.”

“His name is Waylon....”

.

.

.

_A short chapter, but more things are brewing. New boneheads will be showing up, and The Chef will have new responsibilities._

_Don't be shy and drop on by my tumblr. I like talking with all of you, and it's just easier there._

_For those new to my works, check out Order!, it had more backstory on The Chef and her development._

_Don't forget, the world would be bleaker without you._


End file.
